Original subtitles

Given the new world we live in, Belfast and Dublin want this investigation

to showcase positive cross-border cooperation between our two forces.

Listen, Regan, I don't like this any more than you do, OK?

But the sooner we cooperate, the sooner we can go our separate ways.

We all just want to know how it's gonna work with your man over here.

Does he give orders, take orders?

What the fuck's he even doing here?

At least there's one good thing about you being here.

- What's that? - They hate you more than they hate me.

BOYD: What did you do in Dublin that got you banished to the border?

Somebody I helped put away is out on parole.

This person wants to kill me and has the means to do it.

So, until this person can be safely put back in their box, I'm stuck here.

For my safety, and the safety of certain people close to me, I cut all ties.

- Who's C? - No one.

- Can I have your number? - No.

What do you know about Patrick Gorman?

He killed your father when you were a kid, so they say.

Aye, so they say. There's no proof.

- Well, he's back now. - What?

He came back two years ago, runs a furniture store in Castleblayney.

- - Daddy!

- REGAN: How long's this been going on? - On and off a few years.

Worse since you told me Gorman was back.

You need to sort this shit out

before you do something stupid like blow his brains out - or your own.

- Go on, Conor! - Come on!

- Come on, come on! - Get in there!

Go on!

- Go on, Conor! - Come on! Get past him!

Go on, Conor boy!

Get in there!

- Wake up! Come on, lads. - Go, Conor!

Go on, take it!

Go on!

- Go on! - Conor!

Throw it! Throw the ball!

Come on! Get back, lads! Get back!

Yes! Come on!

Woo!

Come on, Carrick!

Come on, Carrick!

Music's a bit shit. Want to go outside?

Hi, Conor.

- Hi. How you getting on? - Are you ready for the semi-final?

..if we get into the final...

Definitely go see it.

See you, guys.

♪ 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

♪ Pay the Devil his due

♪ Pay the Devil his due ♪

MAN: Philip?

Philip?

Forgive me.

Just to let you know that couple are here to talk about the wedding music.

- I didn't mean to disturb you. - No problem.

I was just having a wee chat.

- And how are they doing? - They're good, thanks, Adam.

They're in a better place now.

And you?

Sure. I can't complain.

Excuse me, Reverend. I'll be in in a few minutes.

- In your own time. - OK.

DCI Boyd.

- MAGUIRE: Morning, boss. - REGAN: Headlines?

There's a dead jock in the locker room, local hero,

but clearly someone didn't like him.

- Dr McKenna's in there now with his team. - Oh, God, not McKenna.

- Yeah, and he hasn't had his coffee yet. - Ugh. Any CCTV?

Yeah, just that one, overlooking the car park.

Belongs to the council. We've made an application.

Who found the body?

The groundsman, when he opened up this morning.

He identified the deceased as Conor Byrne, plays for the hurling team.

- The PSNI have been informed. - Ah, no. Why?

Conor's from the North. Lives in Cullyhanna.

- Works in a hotel just outside of town. - Don't tell me...!

Yeah. Boyd will be here in half an hour.

We'll be here all day if he gets involved. Let's go in before he gets here.

- We can't. - Why not?

I already asked Dr McKenna.

He knows Boyd is on the way. Said we have to wait cos...

"I'm not repeating meself twice."

- - In your own time.

"Hello, Philip. How are you doing?" "I'm good thanks, Regan. How's yourself?"

When you've finished talking to yourself, Dr McKenna's waiting.

There are blood splatters across the wall,

so it's highly likely our killer has the victim's DNA on their clothing.

- REGAN: Murder weapon? - A blunt instrument of some kind but...

hard to tell what exactly.

- We'll know more after the PM. - There's no sign of a break-in.

The door was locked, so whoever came in knew the key code.

REGAN: Which is?

- 2012. - REGAN: How would you know that?

You should know that, more than a Prod from the north.

Not all of us are obsessed with GAA.

2012 is the year that Carrick Shamrocks last won the league.

I'd imagine there's more than a few people in this town have it tattooed somewhere.

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

Boss.

All right, Maguire. Shift it.

BOYD: I did some more digging on Gorman.

I didn't find anything I didn't know already.

At least, not in the PSNI database.

Oh, no.

- No way. - Come on, Regan.

There might be vital intel that didn't show up in the Gardai investigation.

- No, I'm not getting involved. - Not you, your friend.

He gave me everything he had, OK?

OK. I'll just have to put my faith in someone else.

- Yeah? Who's that? - Our Lord.

- Jesus Christ. - Oh, Christ Almighty!

Aye, him.

He already spoke to me.

What did he say? "Forget Gorman and get a life?"

He told me to talk to him, not to threaten him.

To appeal to his sense of decency and humanity.

He murdered your father in cold blood. What makes you think he's decent or human?

- He might be innocent. - Mm.

You mean like Conor?

- Detectives? - Oh, shite!

I'll deal with her.

Detective Boyd. Mary Farrell, Border News. Remember me?

Aye, of course.

Can you give us a statement on the tragic events that have occurred here?

Unfortunately, as a PSNI officer, I cannot make any official statement

this side of the border, sorry - but you know this.

I have a question. Word is the victim is Conor Byrne. Can you confirm this?

- And you are? - Yeah, who are you? Are you following me?

Liam O'Hagan, journalist and videographer.

- Put that camera away or I'll arrest you. - On what grounds?

Obstruction of an officer in the line of duty.

Don't argue. She's the bad cop.

There'll be a press conference in due course where you can ask your questions.

- She's not ALL bad. - I heard that.

- Who do you work for? - Just me.

How could he afford a place like this on his own?

Inherited it from his mother.

She died a few years ago, cancer.

Apparently, Conor took sole care of her here till her last few weeks.

Hm. That must be her.

Aye.

- What about his dad? - Walked out when Conor was three.

Most of this is from his old club. Wonder why he boxed it all up?

To flog it, maybe?

So, you weren't allowed to play GAA at school?

Ha! No way! Back then it was considered the sporting wing of the IRA.

- You? - I valued my front teeth too much.

Why did Conor move to Carrick?

From here it's a 30-mile round trip across the border.

Carrick's a better team - at least since he took over coaching.

Ciaran Montgomery, aka Monty.

Ex All-Ireland Champion. One of the best till the drink took over.

- How was he persuaded to coach Carrick? - The challenge, maybe?

Maybe Monty was paid to join Carrick.

Maybe Conor was, too? That might explain the cash.

No, hurling is strictly an amateur sport.

Until someone decides it isn't.

Was Conor dyslexic?

No, not dyslexic.

Mirror writing.

In love.

Question is, who with?

DCI Boyd, PSNI. DI Regan, An Garda Siochana.

We'd like to speak to your manager, please.

That's me, Simon Mason. How can I help?

We want to talk to you about one of your employees, Conor Byrne.

Well, he's not here yet.

Come back later. We're very busy with this dental conference.

If you prefer, we can make this more painful for you than having a root canal.

MASON: My office?

My God!

I wondered why he was late this morning.

It's so unlike him. I tried his phone several times.

- What did Conor do here? - Um... a bit of everything.

Front of house, behind reception, housekeeping. We'll all miss him terribly.

- I still can't believe it. - Yeah.

Was he possibly in a relationship with any member of staff?

Not that I'm aware of. We don't encourage it.

- How much was Conor paid? - Minimum wage plus tips.

We found 5,000 in cash in his car. That's a lot of tips.

- Five thousand? - BOYD: Aye.

Do you have any idea how Conor could have got a hold of that kind of cash?

- Maybe he saved it? - On minimum wage?

Is it possible that Conor could have stolen it from here, maybe?

No.

Any cash we have here is kept in the safe and Conor wouldn't know the combination.

Right.

REGAN: If he didn't steal the money from here, where else could he get it?

Jack Mullen's been backing Carrick Shamrocks for a few seasons now.

He's a bookie, so he's no stranger to hard cash.

- OK, let's follow the money. - Aye.

Go on.

- Yes... Yes... - Jack Mullen?

Just...

We'd like to talk to you about Conor Byrne.

- 'What a goal!' - Yes! Yes!

Yes, yes, yes! Love it when I win!

Let's go next door. It's quieter.

MULLEN: After the game, half the town was crammed in here.

Everyone was on a high and the drink flowed.

Probably the only person not drinking was Conor, cos was driving.

Oh, and Monty, cos he doesn't drink.

Last time I saw Conor he was walking off on his own

- towards the clubhouse to get his car. - REGAN: How long would that take?

I don't know, ten minutes.

I don't often walk it myself.

We'll need to see the CCTV recording from that night.

Aye, no bother.

Why did Conor move from Saint Mary's to play for Carrick?

One word - Monty. Quality attracts quality.

He idolised him, you know. He was like a father figure he never had.

- Did you pay him to move? - That's against the rules.

That's not what I asked.

OK, I'll admit Conor and Monty came in here one night

and I bought them fish and chips and a can of Coke, that's all.

As far as scandals go, it's not exactly Wagatha Christie, is it?

MULLEN: Ho-ho! Speaking of WAGs.

What are saying about me, you gobshite?

Nothing but the sweetest of words, dearest.

Lottie. Jack's wife - not girlfriend.

How well did you know Conor?

I wouldn't say I knew him.

We met a few times at games and social events here, but no more than that.

He was such a sweet boy. It's so sad.

- I haven't been able to sleep. - Aye.

And we'll struggle to win any games without him.

But life goes on, eh?

Indeed. Indeed it does.

I had a friend once who needed a heart transplant.

He had two donor hearts options.

One was an Olympic athlete and the other was a 90-year-old bookie.

In the end, he chose the 90-year-old bookie

because he wanted a heart that had never been used before.

It's a joke. You know how people who work together tell each other jokes?

You're cracking me up.

Let's fix a meeting with Monty, Monty make sure he was only paid in fish and chips.

- It'll have to be tomorrow now. - Aye, that's a good idea.

We're south of the border, but I'll let you lead the investigation.

Hm. What have I done to deserve this great honour?

You were both drunks. You might be able to get more out of him.

Nice.

Well, can we go then? I need to pick up my car.

- Going somewhere? - Mm-hm. Home.

Via Gorman's furniture store?

Actually, yes. And don't start, OK? Because I know what you think.

- I think it's a good idea. - You do?

I'm joking. You know, how people who work together tell each other jokes?

Funny.

- I'll drive you there. - No need. I can get there myself.

I'm not giving you a choice.

So, are you going in or do I have to drag you in?

I'm going.

Wait.

- Can I help you? - Nice cake.

It's me da's birthday. You know someone in here?

- Are you Patrick Gorman? - Yes. Do I know you?

My name is Philip Boyd.

I want to talk to you about my father, Detective Sergeant James Boyd.

Who?

You were a suspect in his murder in 1991 at his home in the village of Keely.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Yeah, you do.

The car used in the attack was found burnt out south of the border,

close to your home.

You were questioned by the Guards but released without charge then you vanished.

If you'll excuse me, I have to get this cake in to my father before his bedtime.

I was there. You wore a balaclava.

So, how could you possibly know it was me?

- You can show me your shoulder. - What?

If it was you, you'd have a scar on your right shoulder where my father shot you.

Right there. My mother, she was a witness.

I don't have any scar.

Even if I did, I wouldn't show you. Now back off or I'll call the Guards.

Patrick? Please.

Look, when I was growing up here

I knew people who were involved in stuff like that.

We all did.

The Guards were always questioning me and my friends

about shit we had nothing to do with.

That's why I left Ireland.

I didn't want to get drawn into that world.

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

Well?

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

Aye.

You seem very certain.

For most of my life I believed it was him.

Maybe belief isn't enough.

Don't tell that to your God.

Don't draw attention to yourself.

What do you want?

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

We have a hotel full of dentists to entertain,

and God knows, they need some fun in their lives.

So, don't screw up.

Cos now you know what happens if you do.

MAN: Debbie?

- All right, neighbour? - I'm busy.

So, you're not interested in hearing about the fella I saw today

sitting in a car watching this place?

Get in!

Not what you'd call homely, is it?

- So, this man, what did he look like? - Let's see if I can remember.

A wee dram might kickstart the old grey matter.

- I know what I'd like to kick. - I didn't have you down for a GAA fan.

Slainte.

So?

To be honest with you, I couldn't see him that clearly through the windscreen.

When I went to take a closer look, he drove off.

- Oh, Jesus Christ! - However, I did get his number plate.

Thank you.

- Daniel wants to say good night. - Sure. Aye.

Are you all right? You were very quiet over dinner.

Yeah, I'm fine. Just a wee bit tired is all.

Did you find us a new sofa?

You know, I think that one's fine after all.

Sorry, Da.

I really thought I had an answer for you.

Some detective, huh?

BOYD: About what time did you leave Jack's?

Er... Early, about nine.

It was heading for a lock-in and I don't drink.

Me neither. Coming up to nine years now.

That's why you're asking the questions.

So, you left the bar before Conor?

Yeah, walked home, was in bed for about 9:00, 9:30.

- And do you have an alibi? - Only him.

- And he don't say much! - No. How did Conor seem to you?

Like everyone else, he was happy with the result.

Did Jack Mullen pay you or Conor to join Carrick?

Jack Mullen didn't pay either of us.

Conor got expenses to travel over the border for training and games, that's all.

Only the biggest names in the game get perks like cars and stuff,

but Conor was way off that.

In my day, you were lucky if someone bought you a bag of chips.

Was there any ill-feeling about an outsider from the North joining Carrick?

A few noses were put out of joint in his old club, St Mary's.

- What about noses in Carrick? - It took a while for Finn to accept him.

Once Conor started scoring goals, that all changed.

Finn is a local lad born and bred, so it was harder for him.

But, you know, he's no murderer.

I thought you said I was conducting the interview?

I changed my mind when you started rambling.

I wasn't rambling. I'm just not as direct as you are.

Exactly. Rambling.

There's nothing a simple country cop like me can teach you, is there?

Nah! Nothing I can't Google.

All right, Brady, you're on speaker.

Ma'am, Dr McKenna sent over more results from the PM.

He says he found traces of wood

'in Conor's wounds which likely came from the murder weapon.'

- What kind of wood? - Ash?

- You're right, sir, it was. - Anything else?

Yes, we have some CCTV footage we need you to see.

OK, we're on our way.

You can ask me, if you like.

- No need. I'll work it out. - Sure, or you can just Google it.

What are hurleys traditionally made from?

Ash. Clash of the ash. Our murder weapon is a hurley stick.

Correct.

Trouble is, in these parts, everybody owns a hurley.

Come on, boy. Come on.

Everything we have on Jones, OK? ASAP.

- REGAN: Ma'am may I have a word? - Of course.

- I'll catch you up. - OK.

Yesterday, my neighbour saw a man in a car watching my flat.

He drove off before he could get a good look at him, but he got the registration.

- I checked. It's fake. - OK.

OK, I'll put you on a watch list, but we can't afford much

so you're going to have to up your personal security.

Maybe get your neighbour to help.

Yes, ma'am.

OK, what have we got?

This is the footage from the CCTV outside the clubhouse after the game.

Conor puts his kit into his boot while Jack gets into his car.

Jack's wife Lottie walks across and speaks briefly to Conor

before she too gets into Jack's car.

Jack drives away.

Then Finn Walsh appears.

- Finn also says something to Conor. - REGAN: Not friendly, by the looks of it.

BOYD: Monty said there was tension between them.

Conor locks his car then he follows behind them on foot to the bar.

From this moment until Conor returns at ten to go home, no one's caught on camera.

So, our killer got to the clubhouse from somewhere beyond the sight of the camera.

Or was waiting in the clubhouse the whole time.

Fast forward to when Conor returns to get his car.

What's he putting in there? Money?

Don't know what he puts in, but I do know what he takes out.

A hurley.

That's the last image we have of Conor alive.

So, our murder victim brought the murder weapon to his murder?

We need to find that hurley stick.

What about the CCTV from Jack's?

OK, so this is from a camera at the rear of the bar.

Conor talks to Lottie.

What are they arguing about?

Then Finn returns for round two.

Those two seem closer than she made out.

Maguire, ask Ms Mullen to come in and talk to us.

Yes, boss.

That's Liam O'Hagan, the video journalist from the other day.

Looking for a comment.

BOYD: Looks like a no-comment.

BRADY: Then, shortly after, this happens.

He's warning him about something.

Are there any other exits?

A fire exit at the rear, but it doesn't have CCTV.

Only this one does.

That's Finn walking home.

Except he doesn't live that way.

That's the way to the sports complex.

Rewind.

Stop.

I want every last stitch of that clothing sent to forensics.

REGAN: Just for the record, you're not under arrest.

You have been cautioned and have declined the services of legal counsel.

We appreciate your cooperation.

Didn't have much choice.

Your guys came and stole half my clothes and my hurleys.

How am I meant to play?

You'll get everything back after they've been analysed.

Assuming, that is, that you're telling the truth.

I told you I don't remember much. I was hammered.

What were you and Conor arguing about in Jack's bar?

And don't lie, Finn. We have CCTV that says you were.

I accused him of not being a team player.

Conor was for himself.

No one on the team liked him, except when he was scoring goals.

So, you were jealous?

Maybe, but not enough to kill him.

- Sure about that? - What happened after you left the bar?

I walked home.

And yet... you headed in the opposite direction, towards the clubhouse.

Did I? I don't remember.

You may not remember, Finn, but don't worry,

forensics often helps remind people what they got up to.

You got something for me?

MAN: 'The furniture man you asked me about, I found something.'

BOYD: Thank you for coming in, Mrs Mullen.

Anything to help.

So, we checked the CCTV and we can't see when you left the bar that night.

- That's because I didn't. - Come again?

Jack and I stayed the night.

There's a bedroom upstairs.

We use it if it's a late one or we're both over the limit or... you know.

I don't.

Jack has, shall we say, quite an appetite.

- How's your appetite? - Depends what's on the menu.

- Was Conor Byrne on the menu? - Huh!

I wish! No. He had a girlfriend.

Name?

No idea. He was very secretive.

- So, how do you know he had a girlfriend? - He told me.

He and I flirted with each other, but then I flirt with lots of men.

- Does Jack mind? - He trusts me.

Should we trust you?

She's hiding something.

She says Conor was secretive, but so is she.

Yeah, but Finn is still our prime suspect.

He had more time to get here, he knows the code,

he has a motive, amplified by alcohol.

Plus, he knows how to wield a hurley.

But he was blind drunk, Conor was stone-cold sober.

Surely Conor could overpower him?

Not if his first strike was a bulls-eye.

But none of this matters because Finn doesn't appear on the CCTV.

We don't know how he got here.

We do now.

Look, it's beyond the camera sightline. Hidden from the road, too.

- Regan. - What?

Vomit. Go get the forensic kit.

It's in the boot of my car.

No, you get it, I'll keep watch.

We're south of the border. I'm the boss now.

Hurry up! Before it rains.

Of all the Guards in all the world, I get stuck with you.

Well, try working with a mentally unstable Bible-basher who'd believe anything.

Who'd even believe Gorman, for God's sake!

You know something.

- Are you getting the forensic kit or not? - No, Regan, tell me what you know.

Nothing.

That's what my kids say when they're hiding something.

Believe it or not, I'm trying to protect you.

- You, protect me? From what? - The truth.

- The truth? - You really want to know?

Yes, Regan, I really want to know.

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

Our forensics team found no prints, right?

- Right. - Wrong.

There were prints on it, but somehow they were lost.

Lost?

These prints, do they belong to Patrick Gorman?

Yes.

The lying bastard.

Give me the keys, we'll be here all day.

- When were you going to tell me this? - I wasn't.

You'd made your mind up about Gorman so I decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

No, I need him to admit it to my face.

He has to understand what he did to me and my family.

- Good luck with that. - Regan, you have to help me.

I don't need to do shite. It's your problem, not mine.

You know what's funny?

We're so different, but we have one thing in common.

We're both living a lie and it's killing us both.

I pretend to forget what happened to me as a kid, but I think about it every day.

It eats away at me. It got me drinking.

It keeps me distant from Rosie and the kids.

And only two people know this. I pray to one and I work with the other.

She's this angry Dublin detective whose real name I don't even know

and she struggles with her own terrible secret.

But if she asks me, I'll gladly help her. You know why?

Because I know what it feels like to be alone.

If I help you,

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

- Whatever it takes. - On your head be it.

Gotcha, golden boy.

Shit!

Where's the money your boyfriend stole from my husband?

I don't have it!

The case against him needs to be watertight so you'd better get on with it.

I don't want to do this.

I have a delivery for Niamh.

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

BOYD: Are you mad? We're in big trouble. This is like the bad old days, OK?

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

Are you trying to get yourself killed?