All language subtitles for Borderline s01e06.eng

Male, mid 20s, head smashed in,
blood everywhere.

- Was Conor dyslexic?
- No, not dyslexic. Mirror writing.

In love.

LOTTIE: We have a hotel
full of dentists to entertain.

God knows,
they need some fun in their lives.

You need to shut your mouth
when the police ask about Conor Byrne.

REGAN: Our murder weapon
is a hurley stick.

Great! So, now the whole
town's a suspect.

BRADY: This is from a
camera at the rear of the bar. Finn Walsh appears.

- BOYD: What are they
arguing about? - That's Finn walking home.

Except he doesn't live that way.
That's the way to the sports complex.

- So, you were jealous?
- Maybe.

- Not enough to kill him.
- Sure about that?

(GUNSHOT)

(SCREAMS)

Sorry for your loss,
but I swear to God, I didn't kill your father.

- He swore it wasn't him.
- And you believe him?

Aye.

The stolen care used the night
your father was murdered was found burnt-out.

Our forensics team found
no prints, right?

- Right.
- Wrong.

These prints,
do they belong to Patrick Gorman?

- Yes.
- Lying bastard!

If I help you,

you have to do as I say, whether
we're north or south of the border.

BOYD: Whatever it takes.

Shit!

Bang, bang.

- You're dead.
- Fuck you, Fitz.

(DISTANT SIREN WAILING)

All it took was fake
numberplates

and a lock on your front door
that a blind baby could pick.

- Are you trying to get
yourself killed? - I've a lot on my mind.

Clearly, staying alive
isn't one of them.

That wig won't save you either,
though it suits you.

- Pity you're a lezzie
from Leinster! - Again, fuck you!

Seriously, our friend
has only been out a few weeks

and we already have intel
that the family are looking for you.

- So what?
- So we need to move you.

No way, I've moved
twice already.

If I have to move again, I'll
tell them where I am and get it over and done with.

- I so knew you'd say that.
- So, why did you bother coming?

I wanted to make fun
of you out here, in the sticks.

Well, you've had your fun.
Now drink up and piss off.

Secretly, I think you
like it here. You've gone native since you started working

- with our wee friend,
The Preacher Man. - He's not my friend.

Did you tell him
what I found out about Gorman?

- Yeah.
- I trust you're not going to help him

pursue that information
any further, detective?

No.

Right answer.

You heard from Caitlin
or she from you?

No. I changed my number.
She's no idea where I am.

Anyway, I'm the last person
she'd want to talk to.

Second right answer.
Three in a row and you win a prize.

Are you dating anyone out here,
cos you know that's against the rules?

No, I'm not.

(IMITATES BUZZER)

You were so close to winning
a holiday for two in the sun.

Mind you, I doubt
Orla would want to lie on a beach

with someone
who might have their head blown off.

It's not serious.

End it.

♪ There's a ghost screaming
over the river

♪ It's a sound only clear
to the sinners

♪ So we know what
to do, what to do

♪ So we know what
to do, what to do

♪ So we know what
to do, what to do

♪ So we know what
to do, what to do

♪ Pay the Devil his due

♪ Pay the Devil his due

♪ Pay the Devil his due ♪

(PHONE BUZZING)

- Shakir.
- 'Sir, I have Conor's phone record.

- 'I think there is
a girlfriend.' - OK.

Better take notes, constable,
else Detective Regan won't be happy.

- Yes, sir. Where is she?
- Not sure.

She texted asking me
if I could come because she had another appointment.

Actually, that's not true.

- She said, "You do
it. I'm busy." - Sounds like her.

Aye, aye.

Kelly Logan?

SHAKIR: It's cold in here.

BOYD: It's a bit chilly in here
for the wee babby, no?

- Can't afford the heating.
- You can afford a designer suitcase.

It's a fake.
Are you here to arrest me for that?

No. We're here to investigate
the murder of Conor Byrne.

According to his phone
records, he called you on Sunday, just before the game.

He also called or texted
you every day for the last few weeks,

often several times a day.

Were you two in a relationship?

(CRYING)

- I'm sorry.
- It's OK. We're here to help.

(VOICE BREAKING) He
was my boyfriend.

Aye. We found the note
you wrote to him.

- He kept that?
- Aye.

I loved him.

SHAKIR: Is the baby his?

- No.
- Who's the father?

It's just some guy.
It was just a mistake.

- Is this your house?
- No, it's my mum's.

- And where is she?
- She's working.

- She's a cleaner.
- And what do you do?

- I clean too.
- Where?

In the supermarket.
I work nights and then my mum looks after the baby.

SHAKIR: Which supermarket?

Can we do this another time?

Aye.

Have we met before?

No.

OK.

I haven't seen you here before.

I... I'm new here, madam.
Name's Conor.

Yeah. I can read.

Mrs Healey, nice to
have you back. I'll check Mrs Healey in.

- Thank you, Conor.
- Yes, sir.

- MASON: Busy week ahead?
- The usual.

I thought meeting face-to-face
had become a thing of the past.

Lucky for us it isn't.

She's been in here
all afternoon.

Says she's not doing
it any more.

Why don't you stick
on the kettle, make us a cuppa?

What's up, babe?

You know.

I warned you.
There's no room for love in this business.

- He wasn't a client.
- We're all clients in one way or another.

I'm not going to do it any more.

Just give the work to
the other girls.

You're hurting me!

Where is the money
your boyfriend stole from my husband?

I told you, I don't have it.

There, there, there.

It's OK, sweetheart.

Look, here's what we'll do.

I have a new client
for you tonight.

His name is Mr Lee, he's
totally minted.

You do this one and we'll
call it quits.

OK?

I have one of these.

You can't beat a massage
at the end of a long day.

- Really?
- It's true.

REGAN: My friend said,
"I bet that chair will give you a better massage

"than your wanker ex-boyfriend
ever did."

Well, if it doesn't,
I'll give you your money back, Miss er...

- Niamh Foley. Call me Niamh.
- OK, Niamh.

- How do you like
to pay for this? - Cash. Is delivery included?

It is. In fact, I'll
deliver it myself.

Oh. A real-life celebrity
delivering my chair. How could I refuse?

Would you like a selfie?

Sure.

(PHONE RINGING)

- Regan.
- 'Brady, ma'am.

'Forensics are back on the items
belonging to Finn Walsh.'

- Anything?
- 'Negative on his hurley sticks

'but on his clothing they found
traces of Conor's blood.'

All right.

(PLAYERS COMMENTING,
ENCOURAGING EACH OTHER)

FINN: What the fuck are
they doing here?

Don't, it'll only make it worse.

Finn Walsh, you are under arrest
for the suspected murder of Conor Byrne.

You are not obliged
to say anything unless you wish to do so,

but anything you do say
will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence.

I know this lad.
He's innocent, I'm sure of it.

How sure?

Yeah, I didn't think
so. Come on.

- What's going on, coach?
- Go on, carry on. Mind your own business.

Back to the training.

- Excuse me.
- What do you want?

- I want to help with
your investigation. - Talk to him.

BOYD: I'm all ears.

I have some video footage
you might be interested in.

Aye, OK.

- Send it to me.
- OK. Thanks.

- MULLEN: (WHISTLES) Hey, you!
- Shite.

- Gotta go.
- I told you, you're barred from here!

- The kid's a troublemaker.
- Do you know him?

Aye. He's been hanging
around here looking for dirt on Conor.

I told him there isn't any.

- What's going on with him?
- You have a good day, Mr Mullen.

He's got nothing to do with it.
Don't you worry, son!

I'll phone my solicitor.

REGAN: Since we last spoke,
we received Conor's phone records.

You didn't tell us
you'd texted him on the night of the murder.

I told you I was drunk.
I don't remember anything.

You remembered to delete
the message from your phone. Why was that?

No comment.

- No comment.
- It doesn't matter.

Your phone is with forensics.
We'll find it soon enough.

OK, so here's how
it looks to me.

You and Conor had an
argument in the bar over the fact he wasn't a team player.

Monty was forced to step in
to break things up,

but you had unfinished business.

So, you texted Conor to meet you
in the clubhouse to set things straight.

You're a local, so you
know how to get there along the path avoiding the CCTV.

When Conor arrives with
a hurley stick to defend himself, you argue.

You snatch the hurley
stick off him and use it to hit him, like you hit a sliotar.

That's not true.

You didn't mean to kill him,
but you got a kick out of hurting him.

Then you couldn't stop.

You hated him. You thought
he was going to steal your place in the team.

No comment.

What did you do
with the hurley stick, Finn?

The one you smashed
into Conor's head.

SOLICITOR: Pure speculation,
detective.

Only when you left
the clubhouse afterwards

did the full horror
of what you did sink in.

We tested the puke.
It's yours.

Perhaps your delayed response to
the appalling crime you'd just committed.

Are you a qualified
psychologist now, detective?

I don't need to be
to know when someone's lying.

May I outline the facts?

I won't ask any questions.

SOLICITOR: Fine by me.

Finn, fact one,

you were caught on CCTV
leaving Jack's bar at 9pm on the evening of the murder.

Fact number two, despite
telling us that you were going home,

you in fact headed
in the opposite direction towards the clubhouse.

Fact number three,
we know you were in the vicinity of the club

because you threw up
less than 50 yards from the crime scene

and we have your
DNA to prove it.

Fact number four,

you texted the murder victim
and you don't remember why.

Fact number five, you
have no alibi.

Fact number six -
and this is the real killer punch -

the blood of the victim
is on your clothing.

Now, I don't know if
there's such a thing as a collective noun for facts...

- A fuckload of facts?
- FINN: Wait.

- I remember now.
- REGAN: Oh, really?

- Are you sure about that, Finn?
- Yes.

I went to the club to
do his car over,

but I was so hammered
I only made it as far as the bench

where I puked and
then fell asleep.

I never actually made it
as far as the clubhouse.

So, why is Conor's blood
on your clothes?

No comment.

REGAN: Here's another fact
for your client.

He's going nowhere for
the next 48 hours.

The forensics are damning,

but given the ferocity
of the attack, surely there should be more blood on him?

How much blood do you need?

Enough to convince a jury
that it's not some kind of contamination.

What do you think, detective?

I believe him when he says
he was so drunk he can't remember much.

- I've been that way myself.
- What about the text message?

When we know what it says,
we'll take a view on it.

The case against him
needs to be watertight, Regan,

if you want me to grant
an extension, which means, you'd better get on with it.

- BOYD: She's right.
- Who's side are you on?

It's not about sides,
it's about getting it right.

Finn's probably guilty
but "probably" isn't good enough.

Ma'am? Sergeant Shakir
is on the line.

She's found something
interesting in the video that journalist sent you, sir.

What video? What journalist?
Oh, Liam O'Hagan?

We did ask anyone
with information to come forward.

He's the type of guy
you can't shake off. Reminds me of someone.

'He sent this footage
about an hour ago. Sharing screen now.'

LIAM: 'Monty,

'can you tell us what
Conor and Finn were arguing about in the bar earlier?

'Is it true you want Conor
to take over the number 14 shirt?

'There's rumours you're
drinking again, Monty, is that true?'

MONTY: 'If I see your face
near Carrick again, I'll smash it in!'

SHAKIR: 'That's it.'

- What time was this video shot
at?

- SHAKIR: 'Timecode says
10:15pm.'

Monty told us after
he left the bar he went home, he stayed there all night.

So, where's he going?

REGAN: Hi, Monty.

MONTY: Go on.

Go in.

You told us after you
left Jack's bar you went home and didn't come out again.

- Why did you lie?
- Who said I did?

- We have video footage.
- Liam O'Hagan, right?

Where were you going?

I was trying to protect Finn.

- From what?
- Himself.

- He and Conor had
a row in the bar. - What about?

Tactics,
who was playing where for the semi-final.

MONTY: Don't do anything stupid
or I'll kick you off the team.

I decide where you play,
not Jack Mullen.

What stupid thing
were you afraid Finn might do?

He talked about vandalising
Conor's car.

So, I took the dog for a walk
to the carpark to check it was OK.

That's when Liam filmed
me leaving.

On my way,
I found Finn on a bench up there.

He was out for the count,
so I left him to sleep it off.

Did you see anyone
or anything else suspicious?

No.

So Jack wanted Conor to
play in the number 14 shirt because he was better than Finn?

- Yep.
- And there was no another reason?

Jack offered Conor cash
to throw games.

As a number 14, it's
easier to score or miss, depending on the spot betting.

- Clever.
- Conor told you this?

I told him to go to the Guards,
but he didn't want to speak out.

You should have come to us.

I've got my own troubles without
getting involved in someone else's.

I wasn't going to
make allegations against Jack Mullen.

Like him or not - and I don't -
he gave me a job when no one else would.

Did Conor accept Mullen's bribe?

All I know is
he said he didn't want to play any more.

- Why not?
- He was leaving here

with his girlfriend
and her baby.

- Kelly Logan?
- Yeah.

I asked him where but
he wouldn't say, he just said "somewhere far away from here".

That would explain why he had
all his stuff packed away in boxes.

Mm. Did anyone else
know about this?

Liam O'Hagan. He's been working
on this story for months.

Himself and Conor used
to play together in Conor's old team up North,

until Liam got injured
in training and had to retire early.

- The hotel.
- What about it?

That's where I've seen Kelly.

It's where she met Conor.

Liam sleeps here,
which isn't really allowed,

but he keeps odd hours,
so I bend the rules.

He's a bit of a loner.

OK. You can go now. Thank you.

REGAN: Lottie Mullen's no WAG.
She's a pimp.

BOYD: Aye, and Kelly
works for her.

They're all in on it
- Mullen, his wife,

hotel manager.

Gambling and prostitution.

- Jeez, it's like Vegas!
- Huh.

That must be why Conor
wanted the money. He wanted to try and save Kelly.

Like he couldn't
save his mother.

LIAM: 'I want my story, Conor.
You owe me.'

- My God.
- 'You still blame me for your injury?'

'You did it on purpose
to take my place on the team.'

I took your place on that team
cos I was better than you, Liam.

Why won't you admit
that Mullen's paying you to throw games?

It's a great story.

Hurling's golden boy,
Conor Byrne, takes bribes then runs off with a prostitute.

Keep Kelly out of this!

LIAM: I'm only saying
how some people will report it.

If you talk to me, I'll
tell your side of the story and her's.

- I'm warning you, Liam.
- Yeah, I'm going to bring Mullen down.

People like him are
ruining this game.

I only care about
Kelly, all right? We love each other.

We're going to be together
and nobody's going to stop us.

Nobody!

'If Kelly wants to talk to me,
that's her choice.'

BOYD: We need to find Kelly.

Your receipt, Mrs Healey.

(WHISPERS) I don't know
what your boyfriend was up to -

and, frankly, I don't care -

but don't you dare screw up
what we have going here.

Hi. I'm Aoife. Mr Lee?

Come in.

SHAKIR: 'I'm at Kelly's
flat. Her mother says she went to work half an hour ago.'

OK, stay there. Tell Armstrong
we'll meet him at the hotel.

No one said anything
about filming.

Would an extra 200 help?

- You'd have to hide my face.
- That's no problem.

No, that's not why we're here.

Please... sit down.

- What do you mean?
- I want to talk about Conor.

- Are you Liam?
- Did Conor mention me?

I don't want to do this.

But you have to.
You're my main source.

I want everyone to know
what Conor Byrne was really like, you know.

He tried to kill me.

Wait! Stop! I just want to talk!

Simon Mason, you're under arrest

for procurement and facilitation
of sexual services for financial gain.

You do not have to say anything,
but it may harm your defence

if you fail to mention
when questioned something you later rely on in court.

Turn around. Anything you do say
may be given in evidence.

- Did this man check in?
- Yes.

- Room number? Quick!
- 424.

Regan, I'll go.
You're out of your jurisdiction.

- For fuck's sake!
- Armstrong, follow her.

- You, stay with him.
- Yes, sir.

Regan!

LIAM: Kelly!

Kelly, it's OK. You're safe now.
Armstrong, take her.

Liam O'Hagan, you're
under arrest for the murder of Conor Byrne...

You fucking prick! Liam!

- Regan!
- Come on! Keep up!

Liam, it's not worth it.

Let's just go downstairs
and talk.

I was the best player
at St Mary's before he came along.

He injured me on purpose.

What happened in the
dressing room, Liam?

He attacked me.

I was just defending myself.

I was better than him.

Ask anyone.

(LAUGHTER)

I'm coming! I'm coming!

Mind you don't give your daddy
a heart attack!

(LAUGHTER)

Uh... I have a delivery
for Niamh?

- Do I look like a Niamh to you?
- This is the address I was given.

Wait a second,
are you that fella off them ads?

- This is 16 Castle
Street, yeah? - Aye.

Wait till I tell my daughter
that I met you!

- What is that?
- A massage chair.

I could use one of them.
Sciatica is my middle name.

- How much?
- 900 euro.

- 900?
- Don't touch it, right?

Docket says 16 Castle Street.

Aye, check it out.

- Woah!
- Hello, Patrick.

(BOYD AND CHILDREN LAUGHING)

(PHONE RINGING)

Phil! It's your girlfriend!

- BOYD: You heard?
- REGAN: 'What?'

Liam admitted to trying
to frame Finn. He found Finn asleep on the bench

and contaminated his clothing
with Conor's blood.

He also used Finn's phone
to text Conor.

But he's still trying
to claim self-defence.

- 'No chance.'
- Aye.

'Anyway, that's not
why I'm calling.'

(STEP CREAKS)

(GASPING)

(GUNSHOTS)

- No. No,
- Daddy!

(SOBBING)

Daddy!

DADDY!

(SCREAMING FADES)

(STEP CREAKS)

I believe you both
met here before.

(MUFFLED GROANS)

Jesus Christ, Regan,
are you mad?

- You wanted answers,
now's your chance. - I didn't mean kidnap him.

"Whatever it takes."
Your words not mine.

- We're in big trouble, right?
- It's your word against his.

No one even knows he's here.

Find a scar and then
you'll know. Then it's up to you what you do with him.

No, Regan.
This is like the bad old days, OK?

It doesn't happen any more.
The world has moved on, Regan.

- Look at me. Hm?
- You know what I think?

I think you're scared
of the truth. Well, guess what, Chief.

- I'm not.
- Regan, stop...

All right. Show time.

Where is it? Where...?

- Where's the fucking scar?
- Jesus Christ!

I'm so sorry.
I had no idea she was planning this.

I told you I didn't do it.
You're both in deep shit!

Your fingerprints were
on the stolen car. You were here that night.

I've never been here
in my life. I stole the car. That's why my prints were on it.

But I didn't kill your da.
Someone else had that pleasure.

What did you just say?

You look just like him.

- Come on, Boyd, leave it now.
- No.

You know who did it. Tell me.

You really have no idea
about your father, do you?

He ran a murder squad
on the border.

Shoot to kill - that
was their policy.

He was responsible for at least
two murders and numerous beatings.

The British knew about it,
but did nothing to stop him.

- So, we stopped him instead.
- You're making it up.

The Guards knew what
was going on here that night and turned a blind eye.

You're a liar.

My da was a brave and
respected policeman who worked hard for his community.

They loved him. He
died for them. Hundreds turned out for his funeral.

You were too young
to know any different.

Your father was a legitimate
target.

- That's why he was executed.
- Oh, yeah?

REGAN: Boyd, no!

You murdered my da in cold blood

in this very room, in
front of my mother, and she was covered in his blood.

- Boyd, listen to me.
- My da, who loved me,

whose family worshipped him,

and you have the
nerve to tell me that he was a murderer?

- Fuck you.
- (COCKS GUN)

No!

- He's telling the truth.
- Regan, get out of my way.

There's a file. I can show you.

Regan.

Trust me.

Gorman, I can send your file
to the Department of Justice

or it can remain hidden,
understood?

(ENGINE STARTS)

Boyd?

My da used to measure me
against this frame.

Back then, you had be at least
five foot six to join the force.

I remember being worried sick
about not reaching it.

We were the same.

Now they're so desperate,
they'll take anyone with a pulse.

Why didn't you tell me
about the murder squad?

I just thought knowing
who pulled the trigger was enough.

You didn't need to
know the rest.

Thank you, Regan.

You owe me 900 euro for
a massage chair.

Gorman said I look like my da.

So?

BOYD: Nothing in there.
Maybe in his room.

That's him.

Sean?

Patrick.

How are you, son?

I'm good... Da.

I haven't seen you in years.

Is this your wife?

- Don't you recognise me, Sean?
- Ach, of course I do.

Are they for me?

- Aye.
- I'll get a vase.

You have about two minutes.

She's a wee cracker.
You'll be lucky to keep hold of her.

Who dressed you this
morning, Sean?

- Your buttons are
done up wrong. - Are they?

Aye, yeah.

Here, let me help you.

That's your mother's fault.
She dressed me this morning.

Aye, yeah.

Don't worry, son.

Everything's going
to be all right.

I know.

(♪ PIANO PLAYING "IMPROMPTU"
BY SCHUBERT)

(♪ PIANO CONTINUING)

(PIANO STOPS)

(BUZZING)

Found her.

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