All language subtitles for Inside Man - 01x01 - Episode 1.ORGANic gerard

What?

What?

Nothing.

I can stand here.

Yes.

I can stand here if I like.

Did you just take a photograph of me?

Oi.

Did you just photograph me?

Well, that's assault.

Innit? Photographing me without
my permission, yeah,

that's assault.

Understand that?

Give it here.

Your phone, give it to me.

Give me your phone.

I have rights.

I'm deleting it.

I'm deleting your assault.

You understand? Yeah?

See, you're invading
my personal space, all right?

And I'm deleting your assault, OK?

Ah.

Ahh.

Ah.

Go fetch.

Oh-ho-ho.

What? You can't be serious.

Are you serious? Huh?

- Are you filming me?
- No.

No? Well, then, what's this?

What's that if it's not filming me?

It's Facebook Live.

- What are you...?
- You're live on Facebook right now.

I've got you, too.

Me, too.

Me, too.

Our next stop is Norbridge,
if anyone's interested.

Anyone watching, I mean.

And if there are any police
in the area, that would be lovely.

This stop is Norbridge.

Doors will open on the right-hand side.

Please mind the gap when
leaving the train.

This is the westbound line
train to Mayfield.

There is no step-free
access at Southbridge.

What're you grabbing me for, mate?
I didn't do anything!

Excuse me.

Oh, hello. Are you all right now?

Yeah, fine. Listen, thank you.

Oh, it wasn't anything, was it?
It was just a silly man.

But that was so clever, with your phone.

- Oh, I'm glad you think so.
- And then, everyone joining in.

It was awesome.
- It was, wasn't it?

Just amazing.

- Yes, I was very pleased.
- Bet you were.

Because between you and me,
I don't have Facebook on my phone.

Haven't actually got much on there.
My sister gave it to me.

I barely know how to use it.

All those features make me
want to lie down.

Sorry, you were bluffing?

I think you'd call it that.

Bluffing?

Well, I do have a Facebook on
my computer, but it's not

the sort of thing that
you carry about with you.

OK. That was ballsy.

Ballsy. That's always such a strange
compliment,

isn't it, between women?

Could I interview you?

Yep, sorry. Weird.

I'm a journalist.
People should know about this.

- What people?
- It's got everything.

Toxic masculinity, women fighting back.

Let me do an interview, you and me,
the two women in the middle of it.

- Oh, no, n-not an interview. No, sorry.
- Why not?

I d-don't have anything
interesting to say.

I have been doing this a while,
and I always get people talking.

Really? It sounds awful.

Well, look, if you change your mind.

I'm just a sort of home person.
I'm very ordinary.

- Ooh, you gave me two.
- Yeah.

If you pop your number on
the back of that one...

I wouldn't feel comfortable
doing an interview.

Will you think about it?

No, I shouldn't imagine I would.

- What's the name?
- Janice.

Janice...?

- Fife.
- Janice Fife.

Maybe just think about it.

- An interview.
- Maybe.

- But I won't change my mind.
- I really hope you do.

Anyway, thank you again so much.

- Bye, then.
- Bye, Janice.

Coffee, though?

Coffee?

We could meet for coffee sometime,
just for a chat.

- Why?
- Do you like coffee?

- Yes.
- Me, too.

I'll phone you.

- Hello.
- Hello, Harry.

Senator Kreiner, I'm going
to explain this one more time.

Death row prisoners
are allowed no physical contact.

They must remain in handcuffs at all
times when not in their cells,

including in this visitation room.

I think I know what I'm doing.

Dillon over there killed 15 women.

They all went voluntarily
to his apartment.

I guess they all knew
what they were doing, too.

14.
- 15.

Edith Johnson died three months later.

Of her injuries.

Of an infection she got in the hospital

where she was being treated
for her injuries.

I don't count her as a kill.

I have a conscience.

Panic button.

Press it if they so much as
get out of their chairs.

I'll be right outside the door.

We're not animals.

He ate his mom's feet.

When she was dead.

Right outside the door.

You're perfectly safe.

OK.

Good.

- Mr Grieff...
- Mr Kreiner.

I'm not, er... I'm not sure
where to start.

Well, usually people have questions,
which is understandable.

The warden said there's been
no attempt to appeal your sentence.

At my request, yes.

- Why?
- Because I'm guilty.

The punishment is,
it would seem to me, commensurate.

You WANT to be executed?

No, of course not.

Well, then, I don't understand.
Why would you...?

I don't want to be executed, Mr Kreiner,

and my wife did not want to be murdered.

Commensurate.

Now, er... making notes is difficult
for me, as you can see,

but, um... Dillon here
has as close as you can get

to a photographic memory.

He is my recorder.
Do you mind if he listens?

- The warden explained about this.
- Good.

Please understand, he will retain
everything that you say.

For the rest of my life.

Which, on death row, doesn't mean
as much as it usually does.

It's fine.

Good. Now, I want to hear everything
in your own words.

Treat me as though I know nothing
about you or your case. All right?

OK. Ahem. My name is Claude Kreiner.

I'm a senator from Arizona.

Married, two kids.

Nothing much more to me than that.

You were accused of
sexually assaulting two women

while in college 30 years ago.

Angela Klein and Margaret Becker.

Another woman, Celina Cadiz,
may have also been a victim,

but she was reluctant to speak out
about her experience.

I was accused three decades after
it was supposed to have happened,

and I was found innocent.

That's not why I'm here.

Were you innocent?

There's not a shred
of truth to any of it.

And one of those women you mentioned
now works in my office.

Celina Cadiz,
the one who didn't accuse you.

She didn't accuse me because
the whole thing was an invention,

top to toe.

Now, why would Celina come to work
in my office

if she thought I was a rapist?

Why did all those actresses
thank Harvey?

I'm not here to discuss something
that didn't happen 30 years ago!

No, you're here to discuss something

that's happened much more recently.

Something I assume
that is puzzling you in some way.

- Yes.
- Yes, all right. Tell me, then.

OK.

Ahem.

Here it is. Ahem.

This is going to seem trivial,
but it doesn't make any sense.

For the last three months,
a sum of money

has been paid into my bank account

at irregular intervals
from an unknown source.

The amount is the same every time.

How much?
- $253.55.

Never more, never less.

Is there a pattern?

Well, I didn't see it at first,
but, yes.

What is the pattern?

It's every time I have sex with my wife.

Hmm.

And how often is that, Senator Kreiner?

Average.

Mm-mm.

I don't know. Once a week?

It doesn't matter how often.

I get one of those amounts
every time my wife and I have sex.

How quickly?
I'm referring to the payments.

Couple of days.

Is the interval consistent?

Fairly, not totally.

Usually two, three days.

Do you get paid more for... unusual
acts?

No.

Maybe you should try a few things.

Dillon...
- I'm sorry.

You got something?

I hear you are quick off the mark with
this kind of thing.

You got a theory?

No. No, no, not a theory, but...

Ahem.

..a very obvious guess.

Obvious?

Senator Kreiner, I'm sure the
warden told you that any case I take

has to meet certain criteria.

I apologise for your wasted journey.

Keith will see you out.

What did I do wrong?

What have you done wrong?

30 years ago, you raped
at least one of those women.

What the hell are you talking about?

What the hell do you mean by that?!

$253.55.

Thanks for coming.

I don't get it.

Celina Cadiz, what does she do
in the senator's office?

Lots of stuff.

- Including bill-paying?
- Sure.

I thought so.

I still don't get it.

Think about it.

So every time he bangs his wife,

$253.55.

You just have to think about it.

But it doesn't make any sense.

Everything makes sense if you think
about it long enough.

Have a little faith.

♪ For thus it was, is now ♪

♪ And shall be evermore. ♪

Goodbye.

- Thank you very much.
- Bye-bye.

- Ah! Good to see you again.
- Good to see you again!

- Have a good day. Hello.
- Hi!

- William says he's still an atheist.
- Still an atheist.

That's OK. God loves atheists.

Why?

Loves jumping out at them.
Boo! Look on their little face!

See you next weekend.

Bye-bye. Bye-bye.

You're looking well! Good to see you!

- Take care.
- Have a good day.

Nice to see you.

Good to see you again.
Thank you for coming. Bye-bye.

The choir is probably two down
for Wednesday.

- Chest colds or permanent?
- Just colds.

Don't be mean.

The average age is 72.
Every long note's a cliff hanger.

That's dark. You're a dark person.

- I'm a vicar!
- Well, you're a dark vicar.

Oh, I like that.

- The dark vicar, I'm having that.
- It's true!

Vicar, could you hide my porn?

I mean, my flash drive.

Is there porn on that flash drive,
Ed? Just a wild guess.

My mum's coming. She searches my things.

You're 36.

Just for a minute, please?
She's very strict.

So's God.

But it's not a sin though, porn.
It sort of is.

It's not mentioned by name.
It's just looking.

Splitting hairs, Ed.
It's hard to read the Bible

and think God is especially
prone to nuance.

She'll search everything
except you. Be a mate.

I can't guarantee I won't
just throw it away.

- Don't look at it.
- Don't worry.

Edgar!

- So, is everything OK at the moment?
- Erm, yes... Yeah.

All OK now.

- I'm a verger now.
- Damn right., Damn right!

Come in!

Hilda.

Vicar.

Sorry. I was looking for this one.

- Mum.
- Well, here he is.

Got to go. Sorry.

I suppose that's you
finished for the day, isn't it?

That's me finished for the week.
I love being a vicar. It's so quick.

- What? You're going?
- I'm picking up my son's maths tutor.

Still my turn because it turns out
I'm still me.

Erm...
- OK, nobody die or get married.

See you Wednesday.

He's doing very well. Edgar.

Oh, I know, yes.
He's turned himself around.

You should be proud of him.

- Oh, I'm ever so proud.
- Good.

Where is it?

Edgar, where is it?

I saw you take something
out of the computer.

One of those stick things
like last time.

Give it to me.

I need to have it.

I don't...

I don't have anything...

Argh!

I always find it, don't I?

I always find your pictures
and your films, don't I, Edgar?

Well, I'll just keep looking
till I find them, then, won't I?

Won't I?!

- I don't have anything...
- Don't lie to me!

Don't lie to me.

It's for your own good.

You know it's for your own good!

Because it's sinful, Edgar.

Sinful.

Was it the usual?!

Edgar, tell me!

OK...

I've been thinking.

I'm getting nothing.

When did Celina Cadiz come
to work for Senator Kreiner?

Two years, 12 weeks and six days ago.

All right, let's imagine
that Mrs Kreiner,

around three months ago...

..has a private conversation with Celina

and realises through the course
of that conversation

that her husband was, in fact, a rapist.

How might that affect her?

I'm going to say... negatively?

Yeah. How would you feel
if you discovered

you were having regular sex
with a rapist?

- Well...
- And you were a normal person.

Oh.

What would you do?

Well, I guess I'd start
paying the bastard $253

every time I banged him.

No, it doesn't make any sense.

I think you might consider
some form of therapy.

Think about that.

Warden.

You didn't like the Senator so much?

No, I liked him just fine.

Just his case didn't meet my criteria.
- No, I guess not.

You know, I was wondering
why you let him through...

..and then I remembered,

isn't he a very vocal opponent
of the death penalty?

You need friends, Jefferson.

Well, I didn't make one.

I'm aware.

Erm, there's another thing.

At this time of night,
I presumed there would be.

This journalist wants to interview you.
- Oh, no.

No.

No.

I have plead guilty,
I've accepted my punishment,

I have nothing left to say.

I'm a very boring murderer.

Not about your case.

About the other ones.
The ones people bring here.

How did they find out about me?

She's a journalist.
I guess she's a good one.

Not interested.

Talk to her. Charm her.

She'll write it anyways.

She might as well like you.

Oh, I see.

Are you trying to make me sympathetic?

- Maybe it'll help.
- Help what?

When have I asked for help?

Just execute me.

It's what you're paid for.

You're wrong, you know.

You're not a boring murderer.

By the way, that's a lovely tie.

I do miss ties.

I've known hundreds of murderers,
every kind.

I still can't get it through my head
how a guy like you

- winds up in this place.
- Anybody can wind up in this place.

Anybody at all. You should know that.

Everyone is a murderer.

You just have to meet the right person.

- So how's he doing, Ben?
- He's very clever, you know.

He's lazy.

What's the point of being
clever if you can't be lazy?

Oh, nice one.
You should be giving the sermon.

I'd go on and on.
No-one would ever get home.

No, I bet they wouldn't.

So what should we talk about this
time? Politics or young people?

- Young people. Awful!
- Aren't they awful?

Ugh! I honestly think there's
more of them every day.

Ben, maths!

- Hi, Janice.
- Mary.

- How was God, darling?
- Still existing.

But it was a close run thing.
I sermoned like a badass.

Shall I go and get ready?

Yes. He'll be right with you.
Do you want tea?

- Thank you. Yes.
- Your son wants a word with you.

- Specifically my son?
- Very specifically.

Where are you going?

Oh, knitting, darling.
I'm going knitting.

Happy knitting.

Dad, do you need anything doing
right now?

Like what?

- Cos I can do it.
- Do what?

- Anything.
- What kind of thing?

About £70 worth.

Why do you want £70?

That's how much you pay
Janice per hour to tutor me

and I'm going to have to
cancel her today

so I can go to a music festival
with my friends.

You couldn't have mentioned the
festival before she got here?

OK, that's not fair. I was asleep.

So if I do something
for you that's worth £70,

I will compensate you for the money
you're about to waste.

And what are you going
to do for me worth £70?

- My homework.,
- Your homework?

All of it for a week.

That's not doing something for me.
That's doing your homework.

- Yes, but all of it.
- Janice is in the study. Maths.

OK, I told my friends
I'm going to be at the festival.

And you will be, an hour later.

I'll be out of sync.
I'll never catch up.

Oh, you'll cope.

Faisal's picking me up in five minutes.

No, he's not. Maths.

- Shit.
- My phone. You've seen my phone?

Upstairs, maybe? Bedroom?

- Excuse me...
- Thanks.

- Do you want me to phone it?
- No. Erm, yeah.

- Is the internet off?
- Yeah, it's gone down again.

Ringing! The internet feed
to our house was blocked

because we'd nearly drained
the world of all naked women.

- Isn't that right, Ben?
- My dad, the funny vicar.

- Are you ringing?
- Yes, ringing!

There's new modules
you have to download.

I need to email them to you
from my laptop.

I can just hot spot you with my phone.
- You what, sorry?

I just set up my modules. I'll show you.

Hot spot?

It's just, I might have a slight
schedule clash. It's nobody's fault.

- Are you sure you're ringing?
- Yes! Yes, I'm ringing.

Huh. Use this.

Oh, thanks.

- Is that my flash drive?, Yes...
- There's private stuff on there.

She's not going to look at anything.
She's just moving files.

- Is it still ringing?
- Private stuff?

- Harry!
- Naughty vicar. What's on there?

Hang on, it's gone to answerphone.

- £70., Festival.
- What?,

- Ben...,
- Deal.

God, sorry,
don't open any of those files.

Sorry, I clicked. I didn't mean to.

What can I tell you? Teenager,
I hate myself in many ways.

Ben, behave.

OK, sorry, but, you know,
I'm a growing lad

and I have drives and

one of them is
sticking in your computer right now.

Janice, sorry. Ignore.

Can I just explain...?
- Found it.

Thanks, love.

Janice, are you OK?

It's porn shock.

Sorry, what?

- Porn what?
- My maths teacher found my porn.

It's a stage in my personal development.

Ben, again?

In a way,
it's encouraging that I'm so normal.

Erm... Sorry, Janice.

I'll see you later.

Before this goes any further,
Ben, £70, forget it.

Janice, sorry.
- Harry,

could I have a word, privately?

It's only...

I mean, this happens, right?

Erm, yes... No, this is something
else, totally different.

OK? Will you excuse us?

OK. You can be the grown ups.

Festival.

Erm...

Can I explain something
slightly complicated?

It's kids.

It's kids... It's children...

The porn, it's children, erm,
doing things...

Having things done to them.

It's not Ben's.

It isn't. It's not Ben's.

Harry,
he just told me out of his own mouth.

He just told me.
- No...

He didn't even think there
was anything wrong with it.

Does that not worry you?!

It's not his.
He was trying to protect me.

You?

He... There's a festival...
Look, never mind. It's not Ben's.

That flash drive is not Ben's.
Let me just explain this.

- No, I think I understand...
- No, you don't. You don't. You don't.

This was given to me.

A man at the church.

A very, erm... very troubled man.

- He gave this to me.
- What man? Who?

I can't... It doesn't matter.

But why would he give it to you?
Why would you take it?

- That doesn't make any sense.
- It's not Ben's.

That's the only thing
you have to understand.

What are you doing?

- I'm taking it.
- Why?! Yours?!

For God's sake,
how is this any of your business?

Because I just saw it. Don't you
dare make me look the other way!

This has to go to the police.

- There are children being abused!
- I know. Yes, of course. But Ben...

The police will be able to advise
the best approach with Ben.

It's not his!

Oh, no,
it's from some man from the church.

What man? Who? Does he have a name?!

Please?

There's... There's a vulnerable
person, an actual suicide risk.

I'll deal with it.

I can't give you any details.
I'm sure you understand.

OK. I understand.

Please. You have to believe me.

- Fine, I believe you.
- You don't, do you?

I have to go.,

Where? Where are you going?
- I'm just going home.

Mine.

It's mine.

I swear on my life. It's mine.

Do you swear before God?

I swear before God, yes.

It's mine, not Ben's. Mine.

You took it from me.

Harry, what are you doing?

I'm telling you...

..as best I can... the truth.

Your son is developing an interest
in paedophilia.

Sacrificing yourself won't save him.

I'm not lying.

I truly respect how much you
love Ben and how far you'd go

to protect him, but protecting him
is not helping him.

- I should go.
- Where?

There's no point in me staying here,
is there?

Where are you going?
What are you going to do?

- I'm just going home.
- Are you going to talk to anyone?

- Are you stopping me leaving?
- No, no, not at all.

I just... I just want to know
what you're going to do.

I'm just leaving, Harry.
That is all I'm doing.

Can we talk for a minute?

Please,
can you stand away from the door?

I'm not stopping you.

- Yes, you are stopping me.,
- No, I'm not.

Thanks.

- Are you phoning someone?
- I'm just calling a cab.

I can give you a lift to the station.

I think you should talk to Ben.

- Why? What are you going to do?
- I'm just going home.

Are you going to talk to anyone
about Ben?

Oh, just talk to your son.

- Don't touch me.
- Don't be daft. I'm not...

Get off me!
- We just need to talk

before you do anything

that might hurt someone
I know you care very much about.

Think about what this would do
to Ben. It would destroy him.

Even a rumour. Even just the
suspicion would destroy his entire life.

Janice, please.
I'm not going to hurt you.

Keep away from me.

This is about Ben. This could...
You know what this could do to him.

What are you doing?

I mean...

..if you're trying to
do the Facebook thing,

I know you don't even have the app.
You told me, remember?

You don't need to do that...

Oh, sorry! Sorry!

Look at us. This is daft.
I've broken your phone now.

Look, erm, I have a spare handset.

You can have that.
What network are you on?

- Argh!
- Christ! No, sorry.

Hold your head. Just hold it.

Dad?

It's nothing. It's fine.

Dad, what's happening?

Nothing!

Stay away from me.

Just hold this against it.

- Was somebody shouting?
- No, no, no, it's fine!

OK.

There goes the music.

He wants to go to a festival.
I think he's making a point.

Don't touch me.

Oh, don't be silly.

This has all got very stupid.

Get off me! Don't touch me!

Let's have a cup of tea.

I'll make a cup of tea, hmm?

- Come on, a cup of tea.
- Get any closer and I'll scream.

Please, a cup of tea
and a chat about Ben.

I need to explain
what happened with Ben.

- I'll scream and people will hear.
- Can we just please... start again?

- Aaargh!
- No!

No, no, stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Aaargh! Argh!

Argh!

Janice?

Janice?

- Oh, Faisal.
- Hi, Harry. Is Ben coming?

Erm...

Erm...

Yeah. Yeah, he is.
Ben, it's fine. You can go.

Great. Brilliant. Hang on, Faisal.

- Don't stay out too late.
- What about Janice? Is she OK?

Oh, she's got something else anyway.
It's fine.

Should I say goodbye to her?

She's, erm, in the loo, so it's fine.

See you later.

Let's go before he changes his mind.

Thank you for seeing me today.

Do you mind if I record this?

Yes.

From what I understand,
you're recording it?

Yes.

I promise any recording
I make would be erased.

I promise Dillon here will be executed.

But that's hardly the point.

What is the point?

I mean, you agreed to be interviewed.

And you still have yet
to ask a question.

OK.

So, you were a professor
of Criminology at...

I know.

You murdered your wife.

I know.

And now, sometimes,
people approach you with...

..well, I suppose you'd say cases?

- Yes.
- And you solve them?

- Sometimes.
- The Death Row Detective.

The Crime-solving Wife-killer.

What sort of paper are you writing for?

I have a number of options
and a lot of interest.

No, I didn't ask which paper,
I asked what kind.

Because your headlines sound
a little lurid.

I'm a serious journalist.

I have a track record in crime writing,

so if I'm sounding lurid right now,

maybe that's on you.

OK?

People bring problems to you.

They bring cases.

And I'm wondering why that is.

I mean, you're a clever man,
but you're hardly the only

clever person in the world.

So, why do all those people
come here, pouring their hearts out,

asking for answers from a man
who brutally murdered his wife?

What's going on there, do you think?

Ask them.

Do you think it's because
of what you did?

Do you think people find it
exciting or titillating

to talk to someone like you?

Do you?

No.

But you think
all those other people might...

..including, presumably, your readers.

Yeah.

That's a lot of people
you feel superior to.

The warden said a case you take
has to meet particular criteria.

Yes.

What criteria?

I think...

..you should consider very carefully

if you want to ask me that question.

Why?

If I answer, you'll be unable
to print your interview.

Why?

Because you're a decent human being.

What makes you think I'm decent?

The contempt in your face
when you look at me.

Moral worth.

I'm sorry?

Moral worth.

That's the only criterion.

I want to do good.

I have a little ability,
almost no resources...

..and very limited time.

Within that framework, I would
like to do whatever good I can.

That's it.

That's all there is.

I want to do good.

What, so this is like,
what would you call it,

- atonement?
- No.

No. Atonement will come when
they strap me to a table

and end my life.

Until then, I make do.

Why wouldn't I want to print that?

Because your readers might approve.

To be honest, I think some
of them might love it.

It's not atonement if there's applause.

It's performance.

It's pleading.

Applause would only spoil the project.

And they won't applaud...

..unless you print.

So, you're asking me not
to write the article?

I would characterise it as begging.

Look, whatever your opinion of me,
I share it.

I presume you've read the details
of what I did.

- Yes.
- Read them again.

Reflect on this.

Wouldn't it appal us both

if, through your agency, I was made

in any way forgivable?

Why did you kill her?

- I'm not answering that question.
- Why not?

- It was personal.
- It was murder.

How much more personal do you get?

It's just, I'm trying to... to form
a picture of...

OK.

Do you have people in this world
that you love?

Yes.

Do you plan to murder any of them?

Of course not.

Neither did I.

Close your notebook.

Why?

I have the strongest
sense the interview is over.

I could write it up anyway.

But you won't.

Why not?

What would be the moral worth?

You liked her.

- Why do you say that?
- You talked a lot.

- Was I boring you?
- I mean, a little bit, yeah.

My apologies.

I mean, photographic memory.

I get stuck with all the stuff
coming out of your mouth.

"Boring, boring, atonement.

"Boring, boring, moral worth."

Jeez. Kill me already.

Going through.

Is it a number code?

Is what a number code?

$253.55.

The case, the senator.

No, it is not a number code.

What is it, then?

It's a payment.

For sex?

So it would appear.

He gets anonymous payments
for having sex with his wife.

It doesn't make any sense.

Focus on the therapy.

They put me with a therapist once.

Oh, yeah? How did that work out for you?

I really opened up.

She... left the profession.

Is she vegetarian?

Is she what?

I thought you said once...

Maybe it was someone else.

Vegetarian?

Well, we have to feed her, don't we?

It's pork chops or...

..chicken.

We could have a Chinese.

I'll talk to Edgar.

- Say what?
- It's his flash drive.

He could explain. He could tell her.

Why would he confess
to having child porn

to a woman who would go
straight to the police?

I could take it to the police myself.

Tell them where I got it.

They'd believe me. I'm the bloody vicar.

No.

No. Yesterday, you were the vicar.

Today, you are a man who assaulted
a woman

and locked her in his cellar

because you were so desperate
to protect your son.

No-one is going to believe
a man who does that.

No-one, anywhere, ever.

SHE YELLS
What the fuck were you thinking?

What the fuck?!

Is there anything down there?

- What do you mean?
- In the cellar?

Is there anything that she could
use to get out?

Don't think so.

Well, what if she starts shouting?
Will anyone hear her?

I doubt it. That door's pretty thick.

- Anyway, there's only us.
- Till Ben gets back.

- He's at a festival. He'll be late.
- Well, we'll have to think

- of something by then, won't we?
- Like what?

Like a way to stop her banging
on that door.

Can't just tell Ben not
to come in to the kitchen

and we can't tell him about this,
can we? Can we?

How would we ever explain
any of this to Ben?

We can't.
I mean, we can't... tie her up.

You need to go down there and see her.

Ask her what she wants to eat.

Well, she has to eat.

- Is that her phone?
- Yeah.

Got broken when we...

She didn't phone anyone, did she?

Hello. This is Janice. I'm not here.

Please leave a message.

_

For God's sake. I'm not going to...

I've been trying to think
of anything I could say

that would make you let me go.

Janice, this has all got out
of hand, that's all.

I always think things through
really thoroughly.

It's what you do when you're alone.

You think everything through,
all the way to the end.

Every possibility.

The worst thing that could happen.

I hid all your tools.

First, just the sharp ones,
then everything else.

Then I... then I broke the saws.

Why?

Because I don't see any way
you can ever let me go.

Janice, no, no, no, no.

I know that you're a good person,
but it doesn't make

any difference being good.

I'm like a bacillus in your basement.

Leave the door open, even a tiny crack,

and I will destroy everything.

No.

Listen to me.

Even if I promise
that I will never tell anyone

about what happened here,

you are not going to believe me.

You're going to think that
I'm going to go to the police

the moment you let me go.

I'm right, aren't I?

You can't risk letting me leave.

You don't know how to make that happen.

I have a Skype call tomorrow
at 9pm with my sister in Canada.

That's the first time people
are going to notice I'm missing.

People look for me,

they're going to find this house
listed as my last appointment.

I cut myself.

There's blood in every corner
of this cellar.

I peed, too, everywhere.

You know I love that CSI, don't you?

Things they can do now.

If anyone comes looking for me,

they are going to find me
all over this room.

And they'll find my blood.

So, you see, if you think about it,
you're as trapped as I am.

I'm not stupid, Harry.

I know you think that you're the one
in control

because I'm the one
locked in your cellar.

But I'm not going
to make this easy for you.

I promise you that.

I promise you hell.

Hello. This is Janice. I'm not here.

Please leave a message.

For the last few months,
Mrs Kreiner has known

what her husband did,
and it's probably making her sick.

So, let's imagine that every time
that she has sex with him...

..it drives her a little mad.

So, she goes to a therapist.

Every time that she has intimate
relations with her husband,

she has a session.

Like a penance.

All right?, OK.
- Mm-hm.

Obviously, she has to pay the therapist,

but the money can't go out
of the usual account

because her husband would see it
and she's not ready

to have that conversation.

So, she turns to the one person
who shares the secret.

- Celina Cadiz.
- Right.

Every time she has a session,

she sends a text to Celina

instructing her to pay the therapist

out of some, presumably, let's say,

other secret account.

And she probably says something like,

"Tell no-one. Don't ask me why.

"Just do it."

Now, here's the part
that I don't fully understand.

Maybe Celina is just naturally obedient.

Maybe she's terrified of Mrs Kreiner.

I don't know. But Celina does
exactly as she is told,

every single time
she receives that message.

So, it must have seemed very strange
to her.

- Why?
- Well, Celina would be...

..what, in her 50s now?

Understandable, then,
that she might expand the text size

on her phone screen.

"PAY THE RAPIST."

That's awesome.

It does have
its amusing side, doesn't it?

But that means that the therapist
was never paid.

Does it?

The therapist doesn't get paid,
so they send out a reminder.

Celina pays the bill,
not realising she paid it already

to the wrong person.

The bill gets paid twice
every time the senator has sex.

Congratulations, Dillon.
You solved the whole case.

Oh, "Pay the rapist."

That's awesome.

Laughter on death row.

Well, I do what I can.

The English journalist just called me.

Oh, yeah?
Is she going to use the interview?

Nah, it wasn't about that.

She thinks she might have a case
to bring to you.

Really?

How very convenient.

She didn't sound like she was lying.

Actually, she sounded upset.

She give you any details?

No, but she assured me
the case had moral worth.

Really?

Will you see her again?

When?
- She's actually on her way already.

Says it's urgent.

Well, I'm not really permitted
spontaneous visits.

With respect, I think
what you're permitted is up to me.

You have an appointment at two o'clock.

She could slot in before that, OK?

Yeah. I'm not going anywhere.

I'll arrange it.

- Well, that was nice.
- What was nice?

Get to talk to her again.

You liked her.

No, I didn't.

I liked her, too.

That is not good news for her.

No, I don't like her THAT much.

Well, lucky for her, then.

Not romantically.

It's nothing to do with liking her
for either of us.

We're both just fascinated
by her for one reason.

She's still alive.

So are we.

No, we are not.

We're living the same day,
over and over and over and over

and over again, in the same tiny room,

until someone has the common decency
to switch us off.

Wow.

You know, sometimes you can make
this place feel really depressing.

It's death row, Dillon.
We're awaiting execution.

I am not what's getting you down.

Beg to differ.

She was interesting, though.

She hid it well, but...

..I'm fairly sure she detested me.

So why would she want
to talk to me again?

What kind of case would that be?

Hmm.