This town really doesn't like the media,
does it?
Martin Scarsden, SMH.
Uh, not a journo. Jane Gibson.
Place is different.
Different how?
Weird shit going down in the scrublands.
Where's Allen?
Jamie, Allen's dead.
He died in the accident.
- Who else have you spoken to? - Lots of people.
And has the fact there were two bodies
in the scrublands ever come up?
These murders did occur only a few weeks
before paedophile priest, Byron Swift,
massacred five innocent parishioners almost a year ago.
Help me! Help me!
So now he's a serial killer?
I'm sorry, but your opinion of innocence--
It's not my opinion.
I was with Byron right across the time
that couple went missing.
You were with him?
We were in love.
Sergeant.
You think someone's listening?
You wanted evidence of a conspiracy.
So why are you telling me now?
Because it's time someone found out the truth.
Hallelujah, huh?
That good, was it?
What happened here?
They, uh...
They tried to cut out a cancer.
What type of cancer?
Doesn't matter 'cause there wasn't any.
Hmm.
Mm, don't. Just leave it.
Leave it.
Just leave it.
Hello, Father Byron Swift speaking.
G'day, Alf.
Yeah, right.
G... Give me 30 minutes or so
to scrub up, okay?
All right, I'll be there soon.
You're leaving me for Alf Newkirk?
I've got a calling, remember?
Mm.
You sure the numbers are right?
Yeah.
It's got to be those ferals, mate.
They're skimming it off the top.
Gentlemen.
Yeah. It's good to see you all again, too.
It's not a bloody book club, Padre.
You're late.
Righto.
What was so urgent?
Let me tell you,
Max is not happy with your retraction.
Well, no, it's not a retraction.
It's a follow up.
Swift didn't kill the couple I found in the scrublands.
The cafe lady alibied them.
Yeah, 'cause she was screwing him.
Seriously, Martin, way to bury the lead.
We need to set the record straight.
Ah, mate.
Copy doesn’t get any better than The Thorn Birds.
Beth, please, just print the facts.
Okay.
Well, can you at least get an interview
with this Mandalay chick?
She'll be at Allen Newkirk's funeral
this morning.
Anyway, it's complicated.
Complicated?
What does that mean?
Are you hooking up with her, too?
Look, I found this bag at her place,
and I'm pretty sure Swift stashed it there.
It had a bunch of clothes, a gun,
a British passport in his name,
a tonne of money.
And then there was this other photo.
Well, wait. If it was hidden, how did you find it?
Journalistic instinct.
Old school.
Um, wait, so this other photo?
Swift in combat gear.
Looks like he was in a squad of some sort,
maybe Australian.
- Any insignias? - No.
But can you dig around,
see if Swift was ever in the military,
UK or Aussie?
Yeah, leave it with me.
But you'll owe me one.
Look, you better make it two.
There's this woman booked in here under "Jane Gibson,"
and she says she works for the Bureau of Meteorology,
but she seems a bit... um...
- A bit what? - I don't know.
But every time she's around, I smell bullshit.
Can you run a search for any Jane Gibsons
at the BOM and in our police contacts?
Thanks, Beth. Talk soon.
- Hey, Martin. - Yep?
Look, this article's about to go online.
If you need to inform your sources,
you better do it soon.
Yeah, right.
Very soon.
Hey, Doug. I wouldn't bother.
Marty.
G'day, Robbie. Mandy in there?
No media allowed, mate. Request of the family.
I'm sorry.
Come on. I'm not media.
I was there when Allen died.
Okay.
Why would you tell the police about you and Byron?
Frannie, I had to.
He couldn't have killed that couple 'cause he was with me.
- Mandy! - I'm just...
I'm sick of people attacking him.
He can't defend himself,
and they're making him out to be some kind of monster.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
How's Jamie?
Still not speaking.
The doctor says his concussion's easing, but--
At least your son is still alive.
Kelly.
I just wish that we'd been left in peace.
They'd never have done what they did
if that journalist hadn't stirred them up.
What was he like?
Um... Yeah, typical kid.
Get into much trouble?
No. Why?
Ah, they said some odd things to me.
Made this crack about getting high.
Thought it might have come across your radar.
I don't have a radar.
I know everyone in Riversend personally.
Allen Newkirk was a good kid.
What the fuck!
Okay, Robbie, you've got to let me in.
I need to talk to Mandy now.
Come on. They already said it's not possible.
Robbie, please.
How many weeks to go now?
Five.
I don't know where my bladder's gonna fit by then, though.
What about you, Jase?
You ready?
Yeah, I suppose.
What is it?
What...
Mandy.
It wasn't my headline.
But it was your story.
Which you wanted to make public.
And I've uncovered something else about Byron.
So last night, after you left,
I found a bag hidden in that wine cabinet.
I know I shouldn't have been
looking around while you weren't there, I'm sorry.
But Byron was prepared.
It was a go-bag that he stashed,
so he could leave Riversend at the drop of a hat.
Fran, can you just look after him a sec?
I just need to...
Hey!
Hey, it's okay.
Ah... Miss Bond?
What was your relationship with the priest really like?
Uh...
What first attracted you to Father Swift?
Uh... Go away!
Did you have a sense that he had a darker side,
that he was capable of such atrocity?
Back off, Monkton.
And what do you say to all the grieving widows
and young kids who have lost their fathers?
Ah! Bloody!
No journalist likes to be the centre of the story.
But lashing out in violence has consequences.
Robbie, come on.
- What about Liam? - What am I going to do, Mandy?
You assaulted him on live TV.
Watch your head. Watch it.
So that's the process, Alf.
The summons will be in a couple of weeks,
when the magistrate will expect him to name the source
of the 100 grammes of marijuana I caught him with.
Fuck me.
What's your mother gonna think of this?
Or he can do the right thing
and just tell me where he got it.
Allen, where'd you get the weed, mate?
It's a bit hard for a young bloke
to rat on his mates, Robbie.
Well, they're hardly mates
if they're getting him to deal for them.
Hey, Al, why don't you nick outside a sec
while your dad and I have a chat to Constable Haus-Jones.
Go on.
You know, if you force the kid to dob,
his life is gonna be an absolute misery.
I just can't overlook this, all right?
If District go through my day-book,
they'll say, "Hey, what about this kid?"
"What happened to the charges?"
Well, those pencil pushers don't know
what it's like to live here, do they?
Yeah, but it makes it hard to compromise, all right?
Yeah, it's hard, Robbie.
It takes a certain kind of effort.
Of course, it's your call.
But you know what happens if you book him?
Bellington Madge will convict him,
and he's marked for life.
He's just a kid.
Don't you think we should be... looking after each other?
Come on.
Whip smart boy like this one,
he's going to go places, aren't you?
Yeah, you've got good numbers,
you've got good ideas.
You might want to send this one off to uni, Alf.
Yeah, well, you don't need a diploma to drive a harvester.
Mate. Hey.
Here, look me in the eye.
You're better than this, Al. Yeah?
- Yes, Father. - Yeah.
You stay away from that stuff, okay?
It only lead you to bad places.
I've seen it before,
Constable Haus-Jones has seen it before,
and we do not want it happening to you.
Yeah? Look.
Yes, Father.
All right.
You won't get many more chances.
Yeah, I'm leaving Bellington Police Station now.
Thanks for looking after him, Fran.
No, no, I'll get a taxi.
Yeah, okay. Thanks.
Hell of a straight right.
Did I teach you that?
I don't remember you teaching me anything.
You need a lift?
It's your favourite mixed lollies?
Snakes and jubes and some freckles.
Can you just focus on driving?
Sure.
Guess I... really don't know much about you any more.
Favourite foods, favourite music,
relationships.
Yeah, well, you don't need to know me for that.
You can just read Martin's article.
Everyone else has.
Imagine it must have been tough for both of you.
You and the priest.
Secrecy...
the moral complexities.
I suppose that kind of pressure can bring you close together.
What you got there?
This is maybe about 300 million-years-old or so.
See, on this side,
it's smooth.
Now, you turn it over,
it's still got all its rough edges.
A two-faced stone.
Two-sided stone.
A stone with a lot of history.
You being metaphorical, Byron?
What is the rock if not God?
Don't try and blind me with your Bible science.
Keep it.
Smile.
What the fuck?
Jesus! I'm not stupid.
I wasn't going to put it on Facebook.
There any others?
I'm sorry.
Hey... Hey, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. I just... I overreacted.
You know that weekend that we've been talking about?
Mm?
What are you doing over New Year's?
Are you trying to bribe me?
I think so.
My shout.
Good. I'm gonna bankrupt you.
I'm a priest. I'm already bankrupt.
Don't do that again.
I would never.
Oh, for fucks sake.
Ah, yes!
Beth Ramachandra
Beth!
So what did you find on Swift?
Nothing. Nada.
No Byron Swift has ever served
in the British or Australian military either.
And the BOM didn't have anything on a Jane Gibson.
I checked the journo's union, Vicpol,
New South Wales Police and licensed investigators.
Nothing.
Back to the military thing, though...
It might be a long shot,
but I got the number for a lawyer with Defence
who's done a couple of inquiries.
I'll send you her details.
You should be out on the field.
Hey, I Googled the motel you're staying in.
I didn't actually realise it was possible
to get minus five stars,
...so yeah, I'm happy here.
Thanks.
Yes?
Ms Coulson?
This is Martin Scarsden from the Sydney Morning Herald.
I'm out in Riversend,
investigating a priest named Byron Swift.
What's that to do with me?
Well, I understand you're in military investigations,
and I was wondering if--
Sorry, can't help you.
Hello you've called Lilly Coulson.
Leave a message.
Ms Coulson, it's me again.
I think maybe we got cut off or something.
Could you give me a call back?
Meat raffle, five bucks.
Got rissoles this week!
Yeah, but they're last week's rissoles.
Ah!
The great investigative journo.
"Killer priest, secret lover."
Huh!
I thought I was a tabloid hack.
Mate, we are not here to help.
We're here to tell it straight.
And that's hard sometimes, sure.
But that's the life we chose.
So...
How'd you enjoy the wake?
It's not the word I'd use,
but tragic, really.
And photogenic, apparently.
How about your "climate studies"?
Making heavy weather of it?
Patterns take a while to emerge.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
Sometimes it takes days, weeks, for a story to come together.
It can be so close, you know,
arranging all the pieces.
But something's still missing.
Like how you're involved in this whole Byron Swift thing.
I'm not.
Come on, Jane.
What are you?
Police Professional Standards?
Federal government?
Some special task force?
Just here for the weather.
Sure, you are.
Sure, you are
Now that you mention it,
how's your article going?
Oh, it's a veritable onion.
Layer upon layer.
Your West Papuan mate, Lukas.
Must be tough on his wife...
Alani?
That's her name, isn't it?
Five children, husband murdered and thrown into a tailings dam.
Good to see you've moved on though,
got back to your journalism.
But one day,
might be you that gets hurt.
I can't believe Allen's gone.
Hey, kids.
Pretty sad day, huh?
You guys know Allen?
No shit. It's a small town.
Al-Pal ruled, man.
Oh, God!
- What is that? Skunk? - Hydro.
No bush bud around here any more.
Used to be tonnes of it.
What, growing around here?
They don't call it "shrubland" for nothing.
Hey, could I buy your sim?
What?
Hundred bucks.
I'll drop it in your account right now.
My sim's got all my contacts in it.
You could call my friends, pretend to be me.
Well, wipe it.
Just delete anyone you don't want me to have.
Do it, Bree.
Delete them all. I'll resend them to you.
Do it? 150.
Cash.
This whole bloody town runs on cash.
Thanks.
Cheers.
No way!
What the fuck!
Oh, my God.
How much bud can we buy with this, guys?
Hello, you've called Lilly Coulson.
Leave a message.
Ms Coulson...
This is Martin Scarsden.
Byron Swift isn't showing up on any military searches,
and that interests me.
I understand you might have had a problem with my phone,
but this is a new number.
So, if you're concerned that our calls may not be private,
I'd call me back quickly,
before this number's found.
Please.
I'm not going away.
You got a second for me to run something by you?
Yeah, yeah. Sure.
I think someone in town had a crop.
Oh, that's a scoop.
What are we talking?
Wheat, barley, cotton?
Dope, Robbie.
I was just down by the river
and these kids were smoking weed,
talking about Allen Newkirk and how great he was.
They said they used to get bush bud,
which could mean, like, a proper crop somewhere nearby.
They made this crack about the "shrublands,"
which has got me thinking,
if there were a crop in the scrublands,
and then that couple were killed in the scrublands,
and just a few weeks later the massacre...
it's like everything almost connects.
But it's got me wondering if Byron knew about the crop.
Because it seems to me that he was alert to things.
You know?
He was clued in to the community,
to the kids.
If there was a crop,
and Byron knew about it,
I can't see how the only cop in a small town
could have missed it.
As you said... you know everyone personally.
Fuck.
Allen, what are you doing, mate?
Jesus, fucking--
Get over here where I can see you, please.
Jesus Christ, Robbie.
Do we need the fucking gun, man? Fuck.
I don't think this can be defined as personal use, can it?
It's not mine. I found it.
Will you... Will you put the gun down, please.
Come on.
- Jesus! - Come on.
Hope the safety's on, Robbie.
What are you doing here?
I'll show you.
Hey, Al, you better nick off back home.
And Allen...
You're running out of chances, mate.
Well, obviously you're under arrest.
No, no, that's not going to work out.
Just give me a sec, all right?
Robbie.
I don't believe this.
Seriously.
Just... take a seat, mate.
So this is where all the money's come from.
The air conditioner for the school,
the sporting equipment.
There were never any generous parishioners.
People want good deeds, Robbie.
Good works.
But they're not going to accept this as a means to it, are they?
People trust you.
As they should.
Mate, when I first came here,
I did everything I could to raise money the usual way,
but it was a drop in the ocean to what Riversend needed.
It was maintenance at best--
So you planted a marijuana crop?
No.
The crop predates me, Robbie.
I just...
I improved it a bit.
Look, when I first found it, I felt just like you, Robbie.
I thought it was wrong.
I thought it was immoral.
And I thought,
"Look, here is an actual chance to do some good."
It's against the law.
Who else is going to bail Riversend out, mate?
Hmm? The government?
The state? Diocese?
All the private money we've got lying around the place?
Come on.
Byron, I--
I just can't look past this.
I mean, fucking look at it.
Seriously.
The stuff that this has bought,
this community has given these kids a sense of purpose.
It's given them something to do.
You've seen it yourself.
They go to school now, they play sport.
They've finally got a sense of community, Robbie.
Mate, I know this is hard, okay?
But you managed to look past Allen's dealing,
find compassion.
But this is different.
Only in scale.
Look, we both do what we do for the same reasons, Robbie.
Yeah, to make the difference in these people's lives.
I've found peace with it.
I've prayed, I've sought guidance.
And I know that this is what I'm meant to be doing,
helping these people, helping these kids, Robbie.
I'm at peace.
Hey.
I know you can be too.
Hmm?
Well, you obviously never booked him for it.
Why not?
He said his next harvest was gonna be his last.
So.
And did you believe him?
Well, I said I wouldn't say anything,
and I didn't,
because I'm a good bloke.
When was the last time you were here?
Yeah, only been that once.
He burnt it?
Well, somebody did.
How many plants were there?
A shitload, mate.
Shit.
The hippies van.
Someone rammed them.
Look.
A bullet hole.
Maybe Byron was involved.
I... I could've saved them.
If I'd stood up to Byron, taken him in...
Loved him like a brother.
Wish I never fucking met him.
Yeah, that's, um...
very tasty.
Thank you.
Uh, you're welcome.
Mandy, I've...
I've got to ask you about what happened.
I don't know.
Hopefully I won't go to jail.
He was ugly before I hit him.
No.
Not the journalist, Byron Swift.
How'd you get tangled up with him?
You mean with all the other prospects
beating down my door?
Well, I mean...
You two were close.
He's dead.
What does it matter?
You didn't hear any rumours about him?
Can we talk about something else?
Of course.
So, how's business?
Journo's have pushed up trade,
but, um, all the same, I can't wait for them to go.
It's a bit of a hand-to-mouth future for you.
You know, you could be out at Springfields with me.
Ah, look, I know I haven't always been there for you--
Uh, you've pretty much never been there for me.
Yeah.
Yeah, I know I've made some mistakes.
And not just me.
You always thought Mum was beneath you.
You want to talk about Byron?
He was here when she was sick.
But you...
You never showed up.
Yeah.
Well, like I said,
I made mistakes.
That's the past.
That beautiful little boy of yours...
That's the future.
Mandalay.
Be careful who you trust.
Martin Scarsden is a journalist.
He's got his own agenda.
And that is always gonna come first.
Mandy!
Don't do that.
I've got some answers.
If I said I don't care, would it make a difference?
I was just out in the scrublands
and there is this weed crop out there.
Well, the remains of one.
Someone torched it, but it was big.
So?
It's Byron's, Mandy.
That's how he funded all his good deeds.
How do you know he had anything to do with it?
A source...
A totally reliable source who saw him out there
tending to the bloody thing.
And...
I don't even think Byron Swift was his real name.
Right.
Okay.
Deep down I knew something was wrong...
That he was hiding something.
But I ignored it 'cause...
I loved him.
And I thought he loved me.
I'm so stupid.
No.
No, he fooled everyone.
But he wasn't who you thought he was.
I'm sorry.
I asked you to find out the truth.
I can hardly complain.
That's a good story.
But it's not just a story to us.
I think it might be time you left.
Um...
Who the fuck were you?
Oh, Sergeant Piccini?
Yeah, it's Constable Haus-Jones from Riversend.
You... You got a moment?
Ms Coulson?
Thanks for phoning back.
No more calls from here on.
Okay.
I can meet you in Sydney, Canberra, wherever you want.
I'll come to you.
I'll text you a meeting place in the morning.
Jesus! Are you alright?
I-I... Yeah, I'm alright.
Once upon a time this was a nice place to live.
Does that work?
Yeah.
Yeah, you can come with me.
Right.
Not even my blind nan could miss with the scope like that.
Somebody sends me a warning shot.
I know I'm getting close.
Who to?
Okay.
Farmer.
Mechanic.
Shopkeeper.
Accountant.
Okay. What's the link?
What's the link?
It's not a bloody book club, padre.
You're late.
Righto.
What's so urgent?
We need to talk about our crop-sitters.
- What about them? - They're stealing from us.
I've gone into the sales and inventory.
We're 10,000 down on the last run.
We're already 6,000 down on the next one.
Bloody ferals. I knew you couldn't trust them.
Doesn't help that your kid's been snipping buds.
Don't talk about my son.
Craig's the one that hired the hippies.
Oh, who cares about that? They're stealing from us--
We're bleeding money. It's not sustainable.
And it's a fucking stupid van too.
I told you we couldn't trust those ferals
as far as I could throw 'em--
Yeah, well, it wasn't you
that got off your fat fucking ass to find these couriers,
so shut your mouth.
Where are they now?
They're around.
I saw them out in the Viaduct Road yesterday.
Waved at me like nothing was wrong.
They're treating us like idiots, Craig.
Right.
I'll deal with them.
What's that supposed to mean, Craig?
I'll fire 'em,
find us new couriers.
As you like to say, Padre,
"We've all got jobs to do here."
So now that we got that sorted,
what are we gonna do about him?
What about me, Craig?
You know what I'm referring to.
You brought a cop in on this.
What the hell was that all about?
I think you lot ought to be grateful--
How is the balls on this prick?
I told you, he's a fucking liability.
Robbie followed your boy out to the crop, Alf.
Now, we all know he's already been nicking
a few buds here and there for his own purposes.
So let's not be so quick to judge the so-called "ferals,"
shall we?
I was out there at the time, doing the sprinklers, okay?
So, no.
I didn't "bring Robbie in," as Craig is putting it.
Anyway, I've spoken to him and he completely understands.
Understands what?
He understands it's a community venture
making money for the town.
Oh, that is a bunch of pious shit
you just thought up yourself.
What is it then, Craig? Hmm?
What is it you want me to tell Robbie,
that you're doing with all that money?
You don't think he's already seen you spend up big
on that big-dick-swinging ute of yours?
We all know you fancy yourself a bit of a red-neck mafia mate,
don of the scrublands,
but unfortunately, I think that role might be already taken.
Look, the worst thing we can do right now is panic.
Okay?
We're all getting what we want out of this.
It's under control.
Robbie is a good lad.
He trusts me...
and he will do exactly as I say.
Now have yourselves a nice afternoon.