Original subtitles

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

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

In love.

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?

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.

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.

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 ♪

- 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?

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

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.

- 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.

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.

- 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.

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.

I'm coming! I'm coming!

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

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.

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.'

- No. No, - Daddy!

Daddy!

DADDY!

I believe you both met here before.

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. -

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?

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.

Found her.