Original subtitles

(shivering)

("Can't Find My Way Home" by Blind Faith playing)

* Come down off your throne and leave your body alone. *

* Somebody must change.

* You are the reason I've been waiting so long. *

* Somebody holds the key.

* Well, I'm near the end

* And I just ain't got the time. *

* And I'm wasted and I can't find my way home. *

* Oooh...

* Come down on your own and leave your body alone. *

* Somebody must change.

* You are the reason I've been waiting all these years. *

* Somebody holds the key.

(siren blaring)

Stop the bus!

(bell rings)

MAN: You can't jump off a...

(car beeps)

(beeping)

(car beeps)

(man yelling angrily)

(woman gasping)

Stop!

Give me my bag!

(grunts) (yelps)

Stop, I'm a police officer!

(thunder rumbling)

Are you all right?

Madam?

I need my inhaler-- oh, God.

In my bag.

(wheezing)

Just breathe.

Stay calm.

Stay calm, breathe.

(inhaler hisses)

Are you all right?

(moans)

Thank you, love-- God bless.

Um, did you get a good look at him?

I need to take a statement.

No, no, I don't need the fuss.

There was only a couple of quid in me purse.

Um, madam, I-I need to report this.

Madam?

MAN: She's young.

Looks late teens.

Strangled?

I haven't moved her yet, but there's a cord around her neck.

There's drag marks on the concrete.

Scuffing on the back of her boots.

So maybe not killed here.

Maybe dragged and dumped.

I'm guessing not many people come down here.

Who called it in?

Male, anonymous.

From a phone box on the estate.

That's not a cord.

It looks like underwear.

Hey, get these people out of here!

(murmuring)

Where's Clay?

Twice in three days.

You in love?

You got a message?

I'm reconsidering our arrangement.

Tell him I'm looking for him.

Come on, get in there.

You turn up for duty late,

looking like you've just been wrestling a pig.

You're supposed to be making up

for last week's traffic screw-up so I have something positive

to write in your first probationary report.

But I was trying to help an old lady.

I've written a few details.

Um...

Tennison, get your backside into Comms

and help Morgan out, now.

Golf-Hotel five-two. Sorry I'm late.

MAN (on radio): Five-two received, over.

Reported break-in at 14 Bishop's Fields.

Can you attend, over?

Five-two received, will proceed, over.

Thank you, five-two, over.

There's been a murder.

Yeah, I put the call out.

Body found on the Kingsmead.

Young woman.

Horrible business.

(garbled speech on radio)

Sorry, say again, sir.

Golf-Hotel to three-nineteen.

22 Darnley Road.

A Mrs. Amos alleging husband assaulted her.

Can you deal, over?

MAN: Yes, over.

I've not been around a murder case before.

(sighs): It's all hands on deck.

Half the station's down at the Kingsmead Estate.

One of you, two teas and biscuits

to D.I. Bradfield's office.

Golf-Hotel to five-nine.

And maybe clean yourself up while you're at it?

(snickers)

Yeah, reports of suspicious activity.

(phone ringing)

Morning, Jane.

Ta, love.

BRADFIELD: I want uniforms knocking on doors.

Someone knows who she is.

SERGEANT: Right.

Ah, Tennison.

About bloody time.

Four quid still in her pocket,

so I'm ruling out robbery.

SERGEANT: The note's been sent to the lab for prints.

BRADFIELD: We need a name for our girl.

That's our priority.

Uh, DS Lawrence noticed track marks on her arms,

old ones. An addict?

BRADFIELD: Former, by the looks of it.

I'll start with drug dependency units, see if they know her.

How was she killed?

SERGEANT: WPC Tennison,

you're testing my patience today.

BRADFIELD: It's all right.

If you must know, the victim was strangled.

With her own bra.

SERGEANT: That'll be all.

Yes, Sergeant.

SERGEANT: Tennison.

Am I in trouble again, Sarge?

Not yet.

I need you to join C.I.D.

for the house-to-house at the Kingsmead and Pembridge estates.

Has she done any foot patrol there before?

You worried they'll eat her alive,

a posh sort like her?

No, I didn't mean...

I'm sure I'll be able to handle it, sir.

She's sure she'll be able to handle it, sir.

Five minutes, front of station.

SERGEANT: Right, D section lads, you're on the Kingsmead here.

Blake, Doyle, Morgan, Tennison,

I want you on the Pembridge over there.

Okay, you got the sketch, you know your questions.

Let's get knocking on doors.

Come on, go!

("White Bird" by It's a Beautiful Day playing)

* White bird

* In a golden cage

* On a winter's day

* In the rain

(unintelligible conversation)

* White bird

* In a golden cage

* Alone

* The leaves blow

* Across the long, black road

* To the darkened skies

* In its rage

* But the white bird...

Police business-- do you recognize this woman?

Yes or no?

If you can't speak, a nod or a blink will do.

No, I've never seen her.

Right, thanks very much.

Sorry to bother you...

What are you doing here?

I told you I didn't want to report it.

It was only a cheap purse.

No, madam, I'm-I'm just...

It's all right, Ma, I'll deal with it.

Um...

Sorry to bother you, sir.

What?

Have you seen this woman before?

Nah, never.

Maybe your mother?

No.

No.

(lock clicks)

(dog barking)

I just got a door slammed in my face.

Welcome to the Pembridge.

I've got a lead.

Old bloke there said he recognized our girl,

said she used to hang out at the Greyhound pub.

Staff reckon from the description

she was an outpatient, Julie Ann Collins.

Last known address, Kingsmead Estate.

All right, get in.

(car beeps)

MORGAN: Suzy, don't run!

Not in those heels, love!

Do yourself a damage.

Look.

You're all right.

We're not here to bash heads.

(sighs): Do you know this girl?

Looks like Julie.

Why?

It was her body

that we found this morning.

What is it?

She's been murdered.

Oh, no.

When did you last see her?

Not for a couple of weeks.

She used to work this patch?

Now and then.

What about any bother?

Any creeps giving her a hard time?

What about her pimp?

I don't know.

She used to hang out with this fella.

Who, that druggie?

No, they just scored together.

No, told me she was sweet on him.

Could you give me a name and description, madam?

Madam?

Be nice, Suzy.

WOMAN: Never knew his name.

White, brown hair, had a bad leg.

Oh, yeah.

He broke it.

She mentioned that.

I think that's why she felt sorry for him.

MORGAN: All right, thanks, girls.

Take care of yourselves, yeah?

Come on.

("Time" by Pink Floyd playing)

GIBBS: This is her last known address.

Times were tough.

Hold up, how can you not

know about Watergate?

President Nixon?

(sighs): It's none of our business, is it?

It's all over the news!

Stop bickering, ladies.

Looks like half the junkies on the estate

have used this place.

Come on.

All right, lads?

You mates of Julie Ann's?

Take that as a yes-- get after them!

* Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day *

* You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way. *

* Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown... *

I've lost him.

Which way did he go?

Come on, stand him up straight.

That's it.

Give us your right hand.

No, the other right.

MAN: Clear the hair.

That's it, turn him around.

Hurry up straight, Thin Lizzy.

Looks like you've had a bit more than whiskey in your jar, son.

Wake him up-- oy, oy!

MAN: Stand him on the spot, that's it.

Give us your hand, left hand-- left hand.

Give us your left hand.

Look, pens, yeah?

You, sign your name.

Let's go.

Let's help you out, you halfwit, come on.

You make a little mark there, yeah?

Well done.

Right, all done, piss off.

Go on, chop-chop.

You stink, the pair of you.

Concentrate, Eddie.

What were you saying?

Eh?

You were high?

When I turned my ankle.

BRADFIELD: You already told us about your broken ankle, Eddie.

That's not what I'm asking.

Girls like Julie Ann have someone looking after them.

A pimp-- was that you?

(softly): I'm her boyfriend.

Well, who was her pimp, then?

Who'd she score off?

We went to see Oz, on the hill.

Who's Oz?

Julie, is she going to be okay?

How do you feel about your girlfriend

shagging other people for money?

I hate it.

It was me that took her to the hospital

to try and get her clean.

I tried to help her.

Oh, yeah, you're a real saint.

What have you been up to the last 24 hours?

(stammering)

At home, with Billy and my nan.

Yeah?

Who's your other mate,

the one that ran away?

Who?

When we picked you up, there was three of you.

Billy, you, who was the other one?

(Eddie groans)

I can't think-- I'm really tired.

I don't know what's going on.

(sighs)

Give him time to come down, we'll try him again.

BRADFIELD: May 1, Eddie takes Julie Ann to the hospital.

He claims he hasn't seen her since.

That was two weeks ago.

Morgan, this Suzy,

she claims Eddie and Julie Ann were lovebirds?

They got high together.

Maybe they had an arrangement, yeah?

Blow for blowjobs.

What a romantic. Sir.

The prints from the phone kiosk on the Kingsmead.

They don't match Eddie Philips or Billy Myers.

In fact we have a couple of missing persons reports

for Julie Ann Collins.

Latest was last year, July, reported by a George Collins.

(sighs): She was 17.

Jesus.

Address, 48 Church Mount Road.

George Collins next of kin?

We're checking, sir.

BRADFIELD: I need a uniform presence

at a next of kin visit.

I haven't done one of those yet.

Well, can you find me another plonk then?

No, I didn't mean...

I'll do it.

(siren blaring)

Continue straight on, sir.

You can take your finger off.

We're out of the traffic now.

(siren stops)

Can I ask, sir...

When we get there,

I know what your role is, but, um...

Once we're inside,

if the mother cries, do I comfort her?

How would I do that?

(sighs)

Sorry if I'm asking too many questions.

No, uh, just...

Just do what feels natural.

Grab that envelope from the back seat.

You want me to show this to the family?

No, when I give you the nod,

just compare it with any family photographs you see.

But be discreet.

So what part of London are you from?

Maida Vale, sir.

And what brings a Maida Vale girl to the police?

I thought the force could do with more posh sorts, sir.

(laughs)

Fair enough.

You shouldn't apologize for asking questions.

It's the only way you're going to become a better copper.

(engine stops)

(doorbell rings)

Mr. George Collins?

Yes. Good evening.

I'm Detective Inspector Leonard Bradfield.

This is WPC Tennison.

Do you mind if we come in, sir?

Of, of course.

BRADFIELD: Do you have a daughter named Julie Ann?

Is she in trouble again?

I'm very sorry to tell you

that a girl we believe to be your daughter

has been found dead.

What?

The body of a young female was found earlier today

on the Kingsmead Estate in Hackney.

We are treating it as a murder enquiry.

We need someone to formally identify her

as soon as possible.

So you can't be sure that it is her?

Not until she's formally identified, sir, no.

(crying)

What's this about?

I've got an alternative proposal.

It might take a few weeks to put in place,

but there's a bookie's on the King's Road

I'm looking into.

CLAY: No.

We're doing the bank.

One of my boys bumped into your wife.

She put up quite a fight.

Now, you bother me again,

next time, I'll send two of them.

When did you last see her?

Oh....

Not for a while.

Little over a year ago.

You know, I tried to help.

She wouldn't listen.

Ran away so often, we just stopped reporting it.

Just, uh...

Hoped she'd come back.

Like other parents' kids do.

(sighs)

Mr. Collins?

Yes, that is her.

That's Julie Ann.

It's all right, Mr. Collins.

It's all right, I've got you.

(gasps)

(weeps)

This isn't our fault.

We loved her, gave her anything she wanted, but she...

She rejected us.

(weeps)

(door closes)

TV REPORTER: ...turned out to be taken from the spy novels

written by their boss and another ex-C.I.A. man.

Hi, Mum.

Have you been at work all this time?

Yes.

JANE: Hi.

(clears throat)

Why are you so late?

Your mum's been worried sick.

A girl was murdered.

I went to the bereavement visit

and the D.I. sent me on the house-to-house.

On your own?

You should've called.

(door opens)

Mum, can you knock?

You haven't even looked at your bridesmaid's dress.

Later-- I need to read this.

I found these in your dressing gown pocket.

(opens and closes drawer)

I didn't know you were on the pill.

(sighs): Mum, it's 1973.

It's not a big deal.

Your sister's not on the pill.

(whispers): Oh, for fuck's sake.

Jane...

You see, this.

This is why I worry.

You come home late.

And you're moody.

And you're effing and jeffing.

I'll try to curb the effing and jeffing.

Look at Pam.

She's happy.

So would I be if all I had to care about

was shampoo and clippers.

And a wedding.

How can that make you happy?

Because it matters.

When we find the person that killed that girl,

it will matter.

We!

Morning, Kath.

You off home?

No.

Remember the old folks' houses in Bishop's Field

that kept getting burgled?

Mm-hmm.

The bloke's been spotted,

only Sarge doesn't want him being spooked by uniform.

So he's sending me and Edwards from C.I.D.

As an undercover couple?

You going to hold hands?

(laughs): Shut up.

Oy!

Get out of here, you pervs!

Well, stop doing your hair and let's go!

Cor, Gordon Bennett!

Yeah, Gordon Bennett.

EDWARDS: Yeah, Gordon Bennett.

So your first PM already?

You're putting yourself out there.

Am I?

If you need some tips,

maybe we could grab a drink later.

Oh, no, I'll be fine, thanks.

All right.

We need the floor plans for the bank.

You look like you've just seen a ghost.

What are you depressing yourself with that crap for?

She was pretty.

Yeah.

Yeah.

(exhales)

You know what you got to do?

Yeah.

Just forget about her now, all right?

I'll drop you off and then meet you back home.

Stick to looking at page three, yeah?

(engine starts)

All right, you can go in now.

How's my boy?

Oh, nice to see you, too.

Look at the state of you, eyes all bloodshot.

You smoking that crap again?

Mum got mugged.

Is she okay?

Man who done it said it's a message from Clay Whitely.

We're all in danger now.

It was a misunderstanding.

Your old man's sorted it.

John wants the plans.

I told him, tomorrow.

SERGEANT: Right, shoes.

Get your shoes off, give them to him now!

MAN: Oy, be careful with my stuff.

That wig's made to measure.

Yeah, which makes it

the only thing we found in your flat

that's definitely yours.

Nice jacket.

You been nicking in Carnaby Street?

Look I know my rights, I'm...

(yells)

BRADFIELD: Now you're sober, you can tell us more.

I swear, I didn't do it!

You took her to the drugs unit

in Homerton Hospital. Who told you that?

MAN: You did.

You moron!

EDDIE: Last time I saw her,

she wanted to get onto the methadone,

but then something happened

and she panicked.

What happened? She left.

Somebody picked her up.

I don't know who.

Did you see her get into a car?

Yeah.

A red one.

Oh, well, we'll keep our eyes peeled

for a red car, shall we?

What sort of red car, Eddie?

A...

(gasps)

A Jag, a Jaguar.

A red Jag, but you don't know the driver?

(grunts)

Night before last, you kipped over at your nan's?

Nancy Philips?

Yeah.

I'll bet she knows everything

that goes on in your estate.

Worth us asking her about Julie Ann?

Leave her out of this.

She's old, she's got angina.

(scoffs)

Did you kill her?

Who would want Julie Ann dead, Eddie?

Think.

(retches)

Oh shit, he's going to puke!

Not on my shoes, you little shite!

(groans)

Call an ambulance.

I knew something weren't quite right.

You could see this little bit of net curtain

hanging out of the bottom of the window.

I look in and there he is.

Little scrote tries to leg it, didn't he,

but I'm on him.

I'm out the back, and I'm...

(makes booming sound effect)

Oy! Stop claiming my arrest!

While you were doing all that,

I was outside tackling the suspect to the ground.

(laughing)

BRADFIELD: Edwards.

Get that locked away in the property store.

Sir.

Right, Eddie Philips has given us a lead.

He spotted a red Jaguar pick up Julie Ann

from Homerton Hospital on May 1.

I want it found pronto.

JANE: On our way, over.

Morgan, Tennison, get into the guv's office.

Eddie Philips

just puked everywhere, it needs cleaning up.

Open the window, as well.

MORGAN: The sarge wants my arrest report.

Just get on with it.

(sighs)

Sorry.

(radios squawking)

Tennison.

Post mortem, let's go.

Oh, looks like I'm on vomit duty, then.

(laughs)

Nervous?

A bit.

Nothing like being thrown in the deep end,

a strangled prostitute.

Don't put it like that.

You met her parents.

She was someone's daughter.

Morning, Paul.

Hello, Len.

We didn't find anything else at the scene,

just the money that was in her pocket

and a cheap beaded bracelet on her right wrist.

These are her white socks and boots.

We did find some red carpet fiber on the soles of her socks

and also some on the inside of her boots.

DS Lawrence, I presume you're doing

exhibits and photographs?

Hmm.

For the paperwork, you are?

Probationary WPC 517G Tennison,

attached to B relief, Hackney, sir.

Just name and number will suffice.

This gruff sod's Professor Dean Martin.

And spare me the Rat Pack jokes.

Right, gather round.

JANE: Oh, no, thank you.

I don't smoke.

It helps block out the smell.

Try not to drop fag ash on my instruments tray,

D.I. Bradfield.

From the hypostasis and rigor

examined on the body at the scene

I'd estimate she was killed between 6:00 p.m. and midnight

on Sunday the 13th of May.

Cause of death strangulation?

The knot on the bra was tied so tight,

I had to cut it.

BRADFIELD: And the killer ripped it off her,

tied it around her neck?

MARTIN: Possibly. Excuse me.

If you need to vomit,

the toilets are that way.

The bra's strapless, so it might not have been removed forcibly.

Maybe she took it off,

beneath her top.

Fair point.

Extensive blue and yellow bruising

down the length of the right arm,

caused by severe blunt-force trauma.

Right, can we turn the body over, please?

Little lady took an extensive beating

to the buttocks and the back.

At the time of death?

No, it's older.

See the difference

between the bruising here

and the more recent marks on her neck?

I'd estimate ten days old.

BRADFIELD: What caused them?

A narrow instrument with a round edge.

The amount of overlapping injuries

suggest whoever inflicted them

was in a rage.

WPC Tennison,

would you mind crouching down?

Side-on, fetal position, facing me.

And raise your right hand, palm upwards,

as if you were trying to protect your head.

Perfect.

She was struck repeatedly on the lower arm

and then beaten repeatedly on the buttocks and the back,

as she fell and lay prostrate on the floor.

He didn't mean for you to actually do that bit, Tennison.

Right, let's proceed

to the fainting part.

Gentlemen, roll her back over, please.

Let's start the internal examination.

(sighs)

This may be another reason

your victim wanted to get off the drugs.

A dead fetus in uterus.

Child might have died at the same time as the mother

or as a result of the previous beating.

From the size and development,

it's very early stages.

I'd estimate six to eight weeks.

* People come in with a problem *

* I say I get there quicker than the lawman can *

* Then I get the man who rob them *

(on record player): * I'm the one, the one they call the reggae man *

* Yes, sir!

* Oh, yeah

(door opening)

* Oh, yeah.

* Whenever they see me coming

* The bad boys run away 'cause they understand. *

(music stops)

Davey, what have I said about smoking that stuff in here?

It's raining, and the damp makes my legs worse.

Then why were you out in it the night before last?

I wasn't.

Your jacket was hanging over the bath.

I was here all night, Ma.

Whoever she is,

she's not worth the bother.

Leave it, Ma.

I'll need you to write up a PM report,

on what the professor told us.

Yes, sir.

You did well, Tennison.

That was one of the worst ones.

MAN (muffled): You're just going to have to be patient, madam.

I have explained, madam...

Now, who is in charge here?

Oy!

You've put my grandson

in hospital!

Can I help, madam?

Eddie Philips.

He ain't got nothing to do

with that tart's murder.

He tell you that, did he?

She got my Eddie beaten up.

She's the one covered in bruises.

I'd say you've got that fight the wrong way round.

Couple of months back,

he borrowed money for her.

What?

Yeah.

But he couldn't pay it back,

so some thug come and done a number on him.

He smashed his leg.

What are you going to do about that?

Well, he didn't tell us any of that.

And the night before last,

was Eddie at yours the whole time?

Yeah, he was.

I think he was asleep all the time I was at the bingo.

Oy, don't you just leave me standing here!

So he lied about his alibi, and someone broke his leg

when he told us he fell off a wall.

If he lied about that, what else did he lie about?

We've got to bring him back in.

Eddie Philips has absconded.

I want all units out there looking for him now.

(siren blaring)

(typewriter keys clicking)

Bugger.

SERGEANT: Before you go, I would pin these

to the incident board.

Why do you smell of Dettol?

I was at the mortu...

Mortuary.

MORGAN: She's on Smith Street, EC4.

MAN: We're looking for Eddie Philips.

Check upstairs.

MAN: Eddie Philips.

Nothing down here.

(footsteps approaching down stairs)

Anything? No.

(laughing and chatting)

Hello, Suzy.

I'm not sure you should be out working.

It's not safe, love.

"Love," now, is it?

We're looking for Julie Ann's boyfriend.

Have you seen him around here recently?

No.

What was Julie Ann's relationship with Eddie like?

I didn't know him.

Was he violent?

Have you prepared a long list of questions?

Piss off. Love.

Sorry I bothered you.

It makes me sick to my stomach

that that bastard is out there somewhere,

breathing, eating, living,

while Julie Ann is in the mortuary

being prodded and poked and sliced open.

Help me help her.

Makes me sick, too.

Not from round here.

Are you?

No.

She didn't belong here, neither.

She wanted out.

That bastard Eddie had her trapped.

I don't want to say no more.

(doorbell rings)

Mr. Collins.

I think we need to talk.