All language subtitles for Silk s02e03.eng

- I miss you.
- CW. Martha Costello.

Are you looking to move? Well,
I'm bloody lonely. I want a friend.

Prosecute,
and you'll walk into silk.

What are you doing in Oxford, sir?
College reunion.

Pastures new, sir.

Does Billy need to know about this?

A white ribbon around
a Clive Reader brief?

It's just another job for you.
No, it really isn't.

This isn't supposed to happen
- falling for a solicitor. No.

Your upstairs and your downstairs
need to have a talk, sir.

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Positive discrimination - is that it?
I mean, do women get more...?

Martha Costello got silk because
she's an outstanding advocate.

I wasn't... Yes, you were.

We treat each application
on its merits.

You've always been
very skilled at saying nothing whilst appearing to say something.

Let me be very clear, then.

I'm really
not allowed to discuss what was said about your application.

I'm applying again.

And, in the interests
of natural justice,

I want to know if there's some
kind of blackballing going on.

I can't comment.

No reasons given, no feedback,

I mean, where else in the law
would that be regarded as just?

Or reasonable?

Wednesbury reasonable.

Are you threatening us?

A judicial review of a decision to
reject an excellent silk application.

Now, that would be
all over the press.

Talk to your senior clerk.

I haven't told him I'm applying.

Well, I can see why.

Why did the oyster
leave the party early?

What?

Because he pulled a mussel.

Senior members of the Bar
don't sleep with their pupils.

How did you...?

As I said, I can see why you're
leaving your clerk out of it this time round.

What's that?

Miss? What are you watching?

We were just going to give it
to you, miss. Right, Jake?

Grab a notebook. Come with me.

Go for it, Beth. It's fine.

"Beth"?

How old do you think
"Beth" is, Jake?

Hello. I'm Tavishi Gupta,
CPS solicitor.

I need clearance for a legal visit.

Yeah, well, better
late than never, Martin.

And you owe me one, remember.

He doesn't want me prosecuting.

Will that mean there'll be
a problem? No, he's my clerk. He doesn't dictate what work I do.

Right.

12 turning into three - that'll help
us get home on the conspiracy. How?

There's 12 students
at the restaurant. They all smash it up, nine of them leave.

Leaving the three defendants.
Who have what in common?

They're all new members of the club.

You used to have to eat a hot chilli
for every year the club had been in existence.

That was getting a bit dangerous,
so now, instead...

Sexually assault the waitress,
steal her knickers, ruin her life.

Induction rite, which means it was
a plan, an agreement to do something.

Which makes it a conspiracy.

Mr Cowdrey's got a con, sir.

What, in here? Yeah. Well,
can't he have it in one of the...

Not really. Sir.

Drink?

You were at Oxford? Yeah.

Right. What?

Well, you know. No, I don't.

You might feel... Ask around.
Find out what my politics are.

Night, Clive. You off home?

Yeah. No con?

No, it's my first day
sitting tomorrow.

You'll be fine.
Just write it all down.

And don't speak.

It wasn't me.

Right.

Well, where were you? Pub.

With lots of your mates? Mm-hm.

You're all over the shop.

Prints were on the counter.

I've been there before, innit.

Glass in your trainers matches
the glass from the shop.

I walked home that way. What,
on your way back from the pub? Mm.

Yeah, about half a mile
out of your way? Mm.

The cut on your hand.

What's another cut?

So, er, not guilty, then?

Not guilty.

Do you always wear that baseball cap
when you go shopping?

Between a quarter and a third off.

No, not on attempted murder.
You don't get nothing off.

You see, I don't think
this is attempted murder.

This is a section 18 wounding.
That's GBH, Ricky.

Tell them that. I'm gonna try.

In simple terms, you intended
on breaking all his fingers

but you weren't going for his head.
Am I right?

Don't push me.

Am I right, Ricky?

What? You can get them to drop
the murder if I roll over on the GBH?

No. You answer my question
and I'll answer yours.

It depends who the prosecution is
and it depends who our judge is.

No, pleading to GBH, you mean.

It means they will have
to give you credit.

Does the devil get credit?

Yes, he does.

Maybe we should explore
why you get angry.

Oh, yeah.

Let's do that.

Why do I lose it? Why does
Ricky Armitage go mental on you?

You want to explore that?
Come on then, let's explore, bitch!

It's all right.

Tell me about your girlfriend.

He dissed her.

Who did?

The man in the shop, you dozy bint.
Who else? And what did he say?

He called her a whore.

And were you were there
when he said it?

No. Alexa, my girlfriend,
she was there.

She come home and told me.

So that's the trigger.

I can help you.

Bollocks.

You got that?

'His girlfriend is vulnerable

'and there are care proceedings in
the family court for his daughter.'

He's got a child?

Get the solicitor to find out
what's happening.

Why didn't you ask Ricky?
Well... I want to know first.

Are you off home then, miss? I might
see if someone fancies a drink.

Mr Reader, maybe?

Uh, Mr Reader, maybe.

What's she like, the victim?
She's good, Izzy.

Robust.

Will she be intimidated by
the line-up against her? Of course.

Line-up?

Three silks. All privately paid,
all very pukka.

I'm hoping it'll backfire.

You still haven't answered my
question - about not liking the boys.

I hate them and everything
they stand for. Does that matter?

Well, I think it does a bit.
It's important not to get personal.

Sorry.

George.

Hi.

Oh, right. Erm, yeah, OK.

Yeah, I'll see you in a bit.

Sorry, that was this, er, solicitor
woman. She's on her way here now.

Listen, she, er...

She fancies me quite a lot.
It's a bit stalker-y, actually.

Anyway, the thing is,
she gets insanely jealous.

So...

Would you mind?

Leaving?

Would that be...?

Clive!

Who was that? CPS solicitor.

Gave me a very strange look.

Really? Good con?

Four pages of form,

lots of it for violence.

Crack and smack are
his drugs of choice.

Abused as a child by his uncle
when he was four.

About as damaged as you can get.

Oh, and he says he's the devil.

High self-esteem, at least.

George is coming.

Shall I hide under the table?
She doesn't know I'm prosecuting. She'd hate it if she knew.

So just don't...
No, no, no. Course not.

Hi.

Hi. Hello.

So, erm, what are you
doing in Oxford, Clive?

Sexual assault.

Oh, and... and who are you for?

Do you mind if
we don't talk about it?

It makes me feel really uneasy,

casually discussing...
this kind of crime.

No, I completely understand.

Shall I... shall I get a bottle?

My God, you'd want her
on your side in a fight.

Every time.

So...

Clive.

Ready?

What for?

Number of past girlfriends?

What? Oh, God!

Between ten and 20?
More than Nick Clegg?

Define girlfriend. What is this?

Any weird obsessions? Like?

Train spotting, Star Trek,
really big diggers.

None.

Julie Andrews - yes or no?

Well... She can run properly,
she can throw and her hair is short.

What are you saying? Well, sometimes
with the upper-class English male,

when it comes down to it,
the ideal girl... is a boy.

She's not really my type.

Good.

Just getting a few things
clear before...

Before?

Before.

You're a very dangerous woman.

You have no idea.

Tell me.

Show me.

Jake?

Yeah. Listen, I need you to,
er, to come to The Lamb.

No, no, no.

Table by the bar, my jacket -
I want you to bring it to me.

I'm in the disabled toilet.

No. I can't... I can't leave.

Jake. Jake?

Listen to me.
Shut up and just do it, all right?

Thanks.

Bloody hell.

Last night.

Sir?

It's really very important
that Billy doesn't find out.

About?

The business in the toilet?

What business in the toilet?

Good man.

What business in the toilet, sir?

OK.

Jake, I was on my own in there.

Yes.

There was nobody with me,
at any stage, doing anything.

Did you rip your
shirt yourself, sir?

No.

George Duggan...

Wasn't there. You've got it.

I've got it. And Billy hasn't.

Where's the pants?

What?

Your three defendants
are arrested at the scene.

Your case is they
assault the waitress

and take the pants off her to use
them as what, a kind of trophy?

She gets away, they stay put,
the police arrest them.

So, where's the pants, Clive?

See, if I were defence counsel...

Yes. I know.

The only thing to leave
that pub was the waitress.

So, one more time...

I know, Martha.

Just saying.

God, whose side are you on?

Well, it's defending.
It's what I do.

Of course. You'd hammer
my lying toerag of a waitress

into the witness box, wouldn't you,

on behalf of those... poor students.

And where does Billy
stand on you prosecuting?

Oh, what, that's an argument?
Billy doesn't like it, so it must be wrong? Come on, Martha.

You do this once and once only.

You lose George Duggan's
work over this

and I will stuff so much
white ribbon down your cakehole

that it'll be coming out of your
arsehole at the same time,

like the mother of all tapeworms.

Do you understand?

Anyway, erm, good luck.

And you stay out of
Miss Duggan's downstairs.

Still rowing?

Ed?

Ed Marmor!

How the hell are you? Good. My God!

Fine.

So what are you...? I'm over for a
conference - terrorism and the law.

Marmor on Terror. I bought it.

Did you read it? No!

Professor Ed.

Yeah.

God, look at us.
Prime of life. Yeah.

A couple of big shots.

Marston Street
seems like... ages ago.

Best year of my life. Yeah?

You know the hardest thing?

It took me years after to belong
in the real world. Everything was disappointing after that. Ed. What?

Shut up. Absolutely.

You can't repeat the past.
Hey, who said that?

Someone says it to Gatsby.
Gatsby doesn't agree.

So, how long are you, um...?
Rest of the week.

Oh, excellent. Listen, we should...
Shoot the breeze?

Last night.

Tell me what happened.
You know what happened.

I want to hear it from you.

I got a razor and jumped.

Jumped?

In the safety net so people don't
kill themself off the landing, yeah?

I went in it, just me and my sharp.

And I started cutting.

I was bouncing about and cutting.
It was amazing.

And they couldn't get at me.

And how did they stop you?

Some big-arse officer
jumped in there with me.

And did you try and hurt him?

No, it wasn't about him.

Can I see?

You weren't really trying to hurt
yourself either, were you, Ricky?

Why are you here?

Because you're my client.

Do you love her, Alexa?

Or did you just smash up
the shop because

you're an angry man with
what, no heart, no feelings?

All rise.

I think possibly counsel should
see Your Honour in chambers?

It's a small world,
the criminal Bar. It happens.

Can't see there's a problem.

Hang on. So, prosecuting counsel
is applying to join the chambers,

of which the judge is head,
and nobody's supposed to know,

yet defence counsel does know.

I mean, I'm sorry, but
this is doing my head in.

Your Honour.

We rise above.

We're all capable of conducting
ourselves in a professional manner

and leaving anything personal
at the court door.

And it's a plea, isn't it?

You're dropping
the attempted murder?

We can't prove intent.

There.

Look how grown-up we're all being.

Oh, er, one thing -
the defendant must be happy.

Are you being nice to me?

Don't know what you mean.

Would you have offered this deal
if I wasn't a vote that you need?

All rise.

Tricky thing is impressing you...
and impressing him.

What is this?

A stranger walks in
and you all go quiet?

What?

Are we in a pub on Dartmoor?

You all look like a bunch of crows.

It's a murder.

Sorry?

A murder of crows,
I think you'll find.

OK, Izzy.

I'm here just to say hello.

And they're here because they're
entitled to be and because...

Actually, why don't you tell her?

To make sure you don't
coach the witness.

They're really here because they
think they can intimidate you.

But of course they can't.

Because I'm going to
rip them to shreds.

Tom... McFarland.

Just wanted to say,
whatever happens,

I know you're just doing your job.
Hard feelings won't come into it.

Well done.

You OK?

Fine.

All three defendants in the dock,
together with nine others,

have pleaded guilty to causing
?17,000's worth of damage to the White Hart pub.

Now, it's a lot of damage,
it's a lot of money,

but it's just property.

These three are also charged with
conspiracy to commit a truly nasty

and deeply humiliating sexual assault
on a 19-year-old girl.

Now, conspiracy... is an agreement.

They agreed to assault Izzy Calvin,

their waitress that night.

And what did they do?

They forced her down onto a table,
they pulled her skirt up from behind,

they dragged her knickers down
and they took them off her.

Now, pause. Imagine you're Izzy.

It's dark.

You're being forcibly held down,
your pants have been ripped off.

There are three men doing this
and they're all very drunk.

What's going to happen next?

What else can it be?

Izzy... believed that she
was going to be raped.

Your Honour, um...

Jury out.

I understand your zeal
as a prosecutor, Mr Reader.

The convert is noisier than those
who have always belonged.

But I'm most anxious the jury don't
get the wrong end of the stick.

What would Your Honour like me to do?

You must ignore anything I said
that might suggest this was an attempted rape. It wasn't...

it isn't... and I'm sorry.

Whoops. You don't do that.
Nobody interrupts an opening speech.

You don't open rape
when it isn't there. Is it your little solicitor girl?

Is it because you want to get into
the knickers of little Miss CPS?

Argh! Ha-ha-ha. Nerve touched?

I think Achilles has shown us
his heel, and so early in the day.

I know this is
very difficult for you.

We've all seen the CCTV footage.

And I'm sure we would all understand
if you don't want to answer.

Your daughter was with you
in the shop at the time.

Can you tell us how she's doing?

She's not coping.

Remind us how old she is.

She's 12 years old and
she's wetting her bed.

She wakes up every half-hour
in the night.

We do not sleep.

She will not leave the house
without me but she will not go to the shop, so I cannot work.

No questions.

I think your client wants you.

Thank you.

Ask him
what he called my girlfriend.

Ricky, that won't help. Ask him.

No, Ricky.

I'm going to adjourn this.
We'll come back on Wednesday.

I'm warning you, Mr Armitage.
Any more of that behaviour and I'll hold you in contempt of court.

Take him down.

Nice.

It's my restaurant and I told them
all to leave. And did they?

No. They started throwing glasses
and pulling the pictures off the walls.

It was mayhem.

I went up to my office
and called 999.

When I came back down Izzy was gone.

You went up to your office.

Yes. Why?

I don't understand.

It's a restaurant.
Is there another phone?

Yes. Is it downstairs?

Yes.

Why not use it?

Who is Adam Garside?

He's a decorator.

Will you take
a look at this, please?

Is that an invoice from Adam Garside
for a re-fit done on The White Hart?

Yes. And is the date the booking
was made to do the work recorded at the top of the invoice?

Yes, it is.

And is that date before
this incident took place?

Yes.

What relation to you is Mr Garside?

He's my cousin.

You went upstairs to make
your 999 call to allow time

for the 12 downstairs to do
serious damage to the restaurant.

I don't follow.
Well, let me spell it out.

You allowed it to happen,

so you can claim the insurance and
brighten up your dreary little pub whilst sending work to your cousin.

Is it right that all three
defendants wrote to you after the incident? Yes.

Were those letters of apology
for the damage they'd caused?

Yes.

And is it right that
the defendants repaid you for the cost of the damage?

Yes.

Did you get repaid twice, Mr Craven?

The insurers... and the defendants.

Yes.

What was the point of that?

How does slagging off the boss make
any difference to the question of

whether or not your boys did
their sick business with Izzy?

Bit ruffled, Reader?

More puzzled, really.

About? About how any of you got silk
with judgement as poor as that.

More titillating question
is why you didn't.

Kant versus Bentham -
you still for Kant?

I've had a long day in court.

Terrorist suspect - 20 minutes to go
before the bomb he planted goes off,

killing thousands of people,
destroying the Bodleian and every book in it.

The answer's no.

Torture is always wrong.
It demeans us all, it reduces us as human beings.

It's too big a price to pay.
What if it's London, hmm?

What if it's a really dirty bomb
and eight million people will die?

So the higher the number, the harder
it is to defend my position?

Torture one terrorist -
save eight million lives.

Indefensible not to.
Your argument becomes absurd.

All right. Well, what if
we torture him, he doesn't give us the information, but... But?

There's one way to get him to talk.

If we torture his 5-year-old
daughter, he'll cough.

See? You're happy when the person
we're torturing has guilt attached,

like, maybe he deserves it anyway,

but put someone innocent
in his place... Look what happens.

I'm glad you stuck
to your guns on this.

Really? Why? Well, I guess
I didn't believe you 20 years ago. I thought you were posturing.

Why would I have done that?
Because you were angry.

And you felt uneasy about
all this privilege, so you took up contrary positions.

Maybe that's why you went to the
Bar. What's that got to do with it?

To defend the indefensible,
to keep being angry.

I'm prosecuting now. Yeah, I heard.

And I heard who you're prosecuting,

which leaves the posture question
kind of hanging.

Get me George Duggan.
Bethany, bucket of chicken. Go.

Come on, Jake. Jake?

Jake? Er, she's not answering.
Well, where the hell is she?

Well, she's probably with Mr...

What's the matter, Jake?

Cat got your tongue?

George, hang on.

You're where?

So, are you pleased to see me? Yes.

No, it was just you ringing
in the middle of evensong.

Is there a greater sin?

No, I was just a bit thrown cos
one of the defendants was singing.

Your client? No, no. Not mine.

Are they all at this college?

Erm, no, none of them.

Brasenose doesn't have
any badly behaved men.

Are women allowed in here? No.

How incredibly exciting.

What if we get...
what if we get caught?

Clive? Yeah? How old are you?

About 19. That's what I thought.

It'll squeak.

What?

Single beds always do.

You must have had your
fair share of single beds.

My place of safety.

On my first night at boarding school,

I must have cried for
about four hours,

trying to keep it quiet, obviously.

When I went to sleep, I dreamt I was
at home. I was looking for my mum.

I woke up.

I woke myself up. I was
calling out for my mum.

And the boy in the bed
next to me was awake.

And he said, "It's Lloyd. Sorry."

He used his own surname? Yeah.

12 hours in and none of us
had Christian names anymore.

To his credit, he didn't tell
anyone in the morning, you know,

about me crying out for
my mum in the night.

And what became of Lloyd?

He went on to be quite
badly bullied by me.

I'm not interested in mothering you.

No? No.

Oh, well.

Worth a shot.

More squeaky sex?

Oh, Lloyd!

Lloyd! Shush!

She's 10 years old.

Who? Ella, the daughter.

Alexa was 15 when she was born.
Ricky was 16.

I spoke with the barrister
that's representing Ricky in the care proceedings. And?

The final hearing's listed the week
after Ricky's criminal case.

She says they're waiting to see
what he gets before they decide.

Whether to take her into care.

Or not.

Why did you stop?

I didn't know she was there.

And when I did, the way
she looked at me, like...

Like? Ella.

Your daughter.

Jamie Slotover.

Oh, I can't talk to you. I know.

It's for when this is over
and we can talk.

McFarland Senior is the story.

Famous daddy puts it on the front
page, if the boys are convicted, of course.

A big inside story on the lawyers.

Four million readers.

Don't talk to her. Press scum.

Izzy Calvin is going to give her
evidence but I want to call her last,

so she has time to settle down
and feel less intimidated.

?30,000 a day
this court costs the taxpayer.

I'm not sitting through three
quarters of the prosecution case,

only for you to pull the plug.

Won't happen. She'll be fine.

I was in the cell across from them
in the police station. I could hear everything they said.

Posh people always talk loudly,
don't they?

What were they talking about?

Knickers.

Or rather, one pair of knickers.

Saying what? Laughing about how
they were skimpy but also frilly.

And the next afternoon were you
released from the police station?

Yeah. And as I was being processed
she came in.

Who?

The girl, Izzy.

Did you hear what she said? She said
she'd been sexually assaulted.

And this was AFTER you'd heard
the three defendants talk about the knickers? Hours later.

You're a liar, Paddy Caffrey.

Is that a question?
You're a liar with a chip.

You've lost me there.

Is it right that on the 9th of
December 2009, at this court,

you were convicted of
handling stolen goods?

Yes.

An offence of dishonesty.
You're the lawyer.

Are you trying to be funny?
Are you trying to be a pompous git?

Look - there's the chip,

right there on your shoulder.

That's not a question.
That is a gratuitous insult.

Mr Caffrey!

Mr Judge?

Is it right that you were
convicted following a trial?

During which you gave evidence.

Oh, look. There's long wind
coming right out of your arse.

Mr Caffrey! Final warning.

Evidence which the jury decided,

by finding you guilty,
was a pack of lies.

You're a proven liar.

The jury can make their mind up
about trusting you this time round.

I've heard about the police
being not very sympathetic

with victims of sexual assaults.

So you were worried about
how they'd treat you?

Yes.

Did you tell your boyfriend
when you got home that night?

No.

No?

What were you frightened of?

That... he wouldn't understand.

Not understand what?

He might think that I'd somehow
led them on.

Why would he think that?

I don't know.

Is he the jealous type?

Yes.

Is he the type who suggests
you do lead people on?

How did you meet?

At the restaurant.
Did he work there?

No.

So how did you meet him?

He was a customer.

What, a regular customer?

No. He just...

One night... You were his waitress.

Yes.

Did one thing lead to another?

Yes.

Did you have sex
the same night you met?

Did he leave a tip?

Your Honour!

Mr Milson's finished, I think.

No further questions.

How many buttons on your shirt
were undone?

The first three. Is the purpose of
that to show a bit of cleavage?

No. Well, why not two buttons?

How about your skirt
- above the knee?

Yes. How far above the knee?

A few inches. How many inches?

Six. Your Honour! Please.

The line of cross-examination
is directly relevant to the defence case.

I'm happy for the jury
to hear this, Mr Reader.

When you're waitressing,

is it right that you have to lean
across tables to serve customers?

Yes.

With a skirt that short, it's highly
likely that your knickers are going to be visible, isn't it?

Which means these defendants would
have known that they were skimpy and frilly, wouldn't they?

Possibly, but...
Were you flirting with them?

The thing about being a waitress is
that's sort of part of the job.

So the answer is yes. A bit.

But when they got drunk and
started smashing the glasses

I went into the pub bit,
out of the way.

And then you went back.

They pushed me down on the table
and ripped my pants off me.

Why don't you ask me
questions about that?

Why go back in, if they'd
been behaving as they had?

On your own, in your skirt,
six inches above the knee,

and your shirt, with all
those buttons undone,

in the dark.

It was dark and I was frightened
and it was very confusing.

So dark that you couldn't see
which of the three had hold of you?

Really? Yes. And you had no idea
who was taunting you,

who was doing the so-called
egging on?

Really? I've told you I don't know
which of them was doing what.

You were speaking to them all night,
taking orders, joking, flirting.

Are you asking this jury to
believe you couldn't tell their voices apart?

What are you saying? I'm saying
your evidence is a pack of lies.

The truth is you were making it
very clear to them

that you were more than just
their waitress, weren't you?

Why... why have you sat down?

Miss Calvin.

Are you afraid to say it?

Are you calling me a whore?

Are you?

Are you?

They're going to get off.
I can't stand it.

I thought you might
need a bit of help.

What is this?

We're both interested in
seeing these boys go down.

Bloody hell.

The first defendant's father,
McFarland Senior,

and the victim, Izzy Calvin.

Crikey. Well, it could be
her asking for money,

or it's him trying to pay her off,
which is what the journalist thinks.

Has to be the first.

She must have gone to him or she
would have told you, wouldn't she?

It doesn't mean she wasn't assaulted.
Clive!

It doesn't mean she wasn't assaulted.
No. And I didn't say that.

What are the defence saying?

You haven't told them.

If you're right and Izzy is
complicit, you know what will happen.

The whole case collapses. At best,
there'll be a new trial. And she can't go through it all again.

Clive! If I disclose these to the
defence all three of them will walk. They'll get away with it.

Non-disclosure of evidence
is as serious as it gets.

I know. I know, I know.

Is this about Izzy,
or is this about you?

What colour are your socks?

What?

Your socks - what colour are they?

Now?

Now.

Yellow.

And what colour are your
co-defendants' socks?

How can he be expected to know?

Well, let's see if he does, shall we?

They're yellow.

How do you know?

I just know.

Is it coincidence that you're
all wearing yellow socks?

No. Because you had an agreement
to wear them,

a plan?

Yes.

Made when? Start of the trial.

Signifying what?

Well, they're socks. No, they're
not. They're club socks, aren't they?

McFarland?

Yes.

Yes.

And wearing them now
is a statement of solidarity.

If you like. If I like or yes?

Yes. And a clear indication that
you all intend to remain in the club,

whatever happens here.

It's the three individuals
on trial here, Mr Reader,

not the club
and its codes of practice.

The purpose of the club is to
conspire to commit crime.

My learned friend is getting
a little overexcited.

Wild and unsustainable allegation.

What else do you do, apart from
smash up restaurants?

It was set up as a cricket club.

When was the last cricket match
involving the club?

No conferring.

The coronation.

I'm sorry?

1953.

So, 58 years of smashing up
restaurants. My God.

If you like.

And after this trial,
regardless of the outcome,

you hope to continue
with your life of crime?

You know, some people,
maybe even this jury,

might consider that to be
an act of shocking arrogance.

Is it nature or nurture?

I...I don't understand
the premise of the question.

Well, not everyone born into
a fantastically privileged position

goes on to lead a life of crime.

Lots of very rich boys
go on to live blameless,

even constructive existences,
despite their backgrounds.

Ricky Armitage has had
a hell of a life.

And he's made quite a few
other lives hell.

I've heard that when
you go to judge school

they tell you to ignore
the fact that the defendant

has had a childhood filled with
abuse, neglect and misery.

But I think that's wrong.

And I think there are judges
with the independence of mind

to agree with me.

You see, aged four, Ricky Armitage
had his uncle in bed with him

most nights for nine months.

Aged 10, his foster father tied
a lit cigarette to his penis

with an elastic band and made him
dance around the coffee table to Leo Sayer.

Am I wrong in thinking
that these two events

have something to do with
why Ricky is a violent man?

Ricky has two things in his life
that he cares about.

His girlfriend and his daughter.

He loves them both.

This... this man, this violent,
angry, damaged man,

who smacks a baseball bat
down on another man's fingers,

has love in his heart
for two human beings,

and, well, I think
that's extraordinary.

I mean, how can a man with so much
brutality in his life feel love?

Well, Ricky can.

And not only is that extraordinary,

it also means there's one thing
inside him that any judge doing his job well has to recognise.

And that's hope.

Don't take that away.

Don't send him to prison for
a length of time that will extinguish hope.

Because when you extinguish hope,

there's nothing.

And when there's nothing,

well, we'd better all watch out.

Am I allowed in here?

No.

What are you doing here?

All my exam certificates, all my
tennis trophies and squash cups,

they're all in the big middle drawer
of my father's old desk at home.

Ed, enough schmaltz. Schmaltz?

Sorry.

I'm trying not to lose
a really big trial.

People keep things.

Clubs keep things.

Clubs have trophy cabinets.

Secret clubs have secret
trophy cabinets.

Yes, they do.

What, you...? Shush.

I'm not even allowed in here, right?

Why didn't you leave with
the other nine when they left?

We were enjoying ourselves.
The waitress was flirting with us.

Did you talk about her
in a sexual way?

Just, you know, normal remarks.

Such as? About her legs.

What about her legs?

That she had good legs for...

For?

For what, a girl?

For someone her age.

How old are you? 19.

How old is she?

19.

You weren't going to say that,
were you, about her age?

Say what? Well, just now,

right then,

you lied to me.

Good legs for someone her age?!

Why don't you finish the sentence
the way that it came out that night?

Good legs for...? A slag.

It's a long way from
evensong, isn't it,

a word that ugly?

We're none of us just
one thing, are we?

Define slag.

A girl who sleeps around.

Does Izzy Calvin sleep around?

I don't know. You don't know?
So why did you call her that?

OK. One more time.

Why did three of you stay behind?

I'll make it easier.

Why was it the three new members
of the club who stayed behind?

It was your induction, wasn't it?

Get the knickers, join the club.

No. Something you felt you could
do because of your own innate sense of entitlement. No!

Without regard for your victim.
Cold, brutal, unfeeling.

Well, where are they, then,
if we took them off her?

I bet they're in her drawer
in her bedroom at home.

How much would you like to bet?

Sorry?

Your scholarship?

Your inheritance?

What are you saying?

Shall we share the information on
that piece of paper with the police?

Shall we tell them where
your club hides its trophies?

What do we think?

Do we want
the unedifying spectacle of waving a pair of pants around in court?

Do you want Izzy Calvin to
suffer the humiliation of having

her pants in an exhibits bag
being examined by the jury?

Or shall we get it over with now,

the honourable way?

Telford?

Sorry.

Don't say it to me.

I'm sorry.

I take into account your
early pleas of guilty,

your good character,

the fact that each of you have
written to the owner of the restaurant to apologise,

that you have paid for
the damage you caused,

and that you have very promising
futures in front of you all.

This was mindless violence

and it's disgraceful behaviour from
young men who should know better.

It is an attack on the community,

and it came about
because you thought you were above the community,

not part of it, better than it.

Well, you're not.

And I want you to understand that,

which is why I'm sentencing you each
to 120 hours of community service.

Clear the dock.

I want to deal with the three
defendants in the trial separately.

This was an act of
mindless violence.

It had a trigger but
that excuses nothing.

It has two victims - a father
and a daughter who,

I have seen for myself,

have suffered and
will suffer terribly.

You could be proposed for
membership, be rejected

and never even know that you were
proposed in the first place.

It's all very secretive.

Not much natural justice.

Judicially reviewable, probably.

What sort of thing would
you be rejected for? I don't know. If you went to Harrow and not Eton?

If how angry you were somehow
interfered with good manners, you know, that kind of thing.

Reader!

What do you want, Milson?

Do people like you eat humble pie?

Journalist named Slotover.

Would I care to comment?

I'll see you in the Court of Appeal

and I'll see you in front
of the Bar Standards Board.

This is the end of
your career, Reader.

The real world, huh?

I didn't disclose them.

Well, say something.

Eight years.

My God, Marth, that's...
Right at the top end, but completely unappealable.

And, coming from
our Head of Chambers?

Unbearable.

What about you?

Eight months.

And how do you feel about that?

I haven't stopped being angry
since it happened.

Then, you're a prosecutor.
It feels like it fits, Marth.

Like I fit with it.

Mr Reader, sir.

You survived.

The new Mrs Reader's none the wiser

and you're back on
the pink ribbons.

Night.

When you're dealing with an escape
situation, you keep the van locked.

That wasn't fighting your own
corner. It was cutting his throat.

He's dead because of me. But that
doesn't make you guilty of murder.

I'm really counting on you here.

I'd need to be sure of feeling
the love in the clerks' room.

But, if we were looking for
prosecutors, Caroline Warwick may not be the way to go.

You know what, Billy?
To be honest, I expected better.

I've had a letter from
the Bar Standards Board. I really need your help. Jesus, Clive.

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