Original subtitles

♪ Ah, ah ah ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ah, ah ah ♪

♪ Ah, ah ah ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ah, ah ah ♪

I've been doing this for a week

and not making any headway.

Should've started with the corners.

Thank you, Joy.

Morning News. Get your news here.

Morning News.

Morning News. Get your news here.

Morning News.

They've given us a date.

For Mr. Pierrepoint's little visit, yes.

12 days.

And we can expect the Home Secretary's decision

a-a couple of days before.

- Decision? - On whether to reprieve,

postpone, or even cancel your death sentence.

Now, a letter from you would be an enormous help,

requesting compassion,

expressing, if not remorse, then at least regret.

I don't regret.

I won't lie, and I certainly won't beg.

Nothing will be sent to the Home Office.

No appeal, no attempt to reprieve.

"And thine eyes shall not pity,

but life shall go for life,

eye for eye, tooth for tooth."

All I want is justice for David.

I'm due at the Home Office in 72 hours

to submit her case.

The Secretary of State will make his decision over the weekend.

What are you using?

For the appeal? Her alcoholism...

and, uh, mental breakdown, perhaps.

You're not thinking of using him?

Ah, yes.

Desmond Cussen.

Look. Dragging him in now

will just makes it look even more premeditated.

Not if he solicited her to murder.

Desmond Cussen was an RAF bomber pilot.

You know the casualty rate of bomber crews.

Only one in four made it through the war.

So we let him get away with murder

because he was a war hero?

No doubt he made mistakes...

getting too close to a woman like Ellis for one.

Not that I'm judging her. But...

The world is the way it is, John.

I could take this to the Home Office right now.

And tell them what?

That you allowed your client to perjure herself?

I could take it to the newspapers.

And what a sheer, bloody spectacle that would be.

You're like me, John.

We're both scholarship boys.

We both know the price of admission for boys like us.

Ah.

I know alright.

Discretion.

And never, ever frighten the horses.

That's why you brought me here, isn't it?

To show me what I could win

if I'm a good little chap and don't rock the boat?

But your problem is I don't care about being part of the club,

one of the chaps.

You think this is all real,

that it matters.

This is nonsense!

That trial was a pantomime.

All of you in your costumes and wigs...

absolute meaningless nonsense.

- Steady, Bickford. - Right now I feel like

I could blow this whole thing up

and damn the consequences.

You really think you can take them all on and win?

You concealed material facts.

You made yourself an accessory to murder.

Now, you can destroy yourself and her,

or you can take her one chance at a reprieve.

For her sake and yours,

go for madness.

But she isn't mad.

Mental strain exacerbated by the miscarriage

and her alcoholism.

She won't like it.

It's the best case we have for mercy.

What about Desmond Cussen?

I think Ruth herself

is where we should concentrate our efforts.

Jackie Dyer's gone to the police.

She's made a statement about the gun

and the... the cab that Desmond used to drive.

Why aren't we using that? - Don't badger the man, Muriel.

Well, there's something he's not telling us.

I can assure you, it's all been looked into.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

Why aren't we using Cussen?

Mr. Cussen?

DCI Davies, Met Police.

Can we have a word?

So you've no idea

why this woman, Jacqueline Dyer, has made these claims?

I suppose a-a misguided attempt to...

help Mrs. Ellis.

Who's made no effort whatsoever to help herself.

Mrs. Ellis has made our job extremely easy.

It's as open and shut a case as... as I ever saw.

And she hasn't fought it.

Why?

She's a young mother.

No criminal record.

Every reason to ask for mercy.

But she hasn't.

She is going like a lamb to slaughter.

I know you've been letting Blakely drink for free

for months.

You let him destroy this club

and make fools of both of us.

I'm gonna need the flat back.

You're sacking me?

I'll give you till the end of the week.

I've got nowhere to go.

We can work something out.

You know I'll always look after you, Ruthie.

Aah!

You will never touch me again.

I'm afraid the divorce settlement from George Ellis

leaves you with...

Bugger all. I know.

Unless you want to take Mr. Ellis to court,

which I would still strongly urge you to consider.

No. Thank you, Mr. Mishcon.

Well...

...one signature...

and you are very nearly a free woman.

So...

what are you going to do with your liberty?

Look for a place to live, find a job.

Thank you.

Mrs. Ellis...

do you have somewhere to stay?

I have a friend.

Ruth...

...you have a little boy.

Mrs. Ellis?

Are you alright?

Can you please turn the light off, Joy?

- I can't sleep. - I'm sorry.

You know I'm not allowed to do that.

No more hostessing.

I'll get a job in an office.

I've already taken up a course of French lessons.

I've always wanted to talk dirty in two languages.

I'm moving in with Desmond.

What?

Temporarily, just while I look for a job.

Why didn't you ask if you could move in with me?

- What happened? - I said...

why didn't you ask if you can move in with me?

Because you live with your parents.

Since you're too spineless to admit my existence...

Is it any wonder I lose my rag when you push me like this?

Take your hands off me.

I said take your hands off me now.

I'm moving in with Desmond

because I have a son who needs a roof over his head

and I've already given up one child for you.

Let me know when you've got the balls

to introduce me to your mother.

Excuse me. May I have the bill, please?

Sleep with him again

and I swear I'll kill both of you.

Thank you.

♪ Ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ♪

Reprieve Ruth Ellis! Reprieve Ruth Ellis!

Sign the petition to prevent a miscarriage of justice.

No. No, thank you.

- Reprieve Ruth Ellis... - No, no.

- I'll sign it. - Oh, thank you.

It's barbaric what they're doing to her.

I just want to save my friend.

I might be able to help.

I understand you've given a new statement to the police.

You're a journalist.

Jayveer Sethia.

I heard they've taken someone in for questioning

about the black cab and the gun.

Have they made an arrest?

The people are on her side, Mrs. Dyer.

If we make enough noise, we can stop this.

But I need to know who she's keeping out of this.

Whoever it is, the police knew about him already.

They took a statement from Ruth's French teacher weeks ago

who said she knew who gave Ruth the gun.

I've been looking for her so I can get his name.

But the police...

They've known all along.

Ruth?

I hope you like lamb chops and new potatoes.

Bollocks to love. You're not in love.

How would you know? You've never been in it.

No, thank God.

Biggest con ever pulled.

Bit of pillow talk,

then 60 years of ironing his pants.

What about you and Cooch?

A diamond like that, he wants something in return.

Yes, and he gets it...

My body.

My smile.

But not my soul.

He knows that.

Your trouble is, you let them in here.

David's passionate.

And I give as good as I get.

- You deserve better. - I'd die of boredom.

If you could be anywhere, doing anything right now,

what would it be?

Driving a big "fuck off" silver Cadillac

down Sunset Boulevard.

Oh! Hello, Hollywood!

Always fancied America...

big cars, big, open roads.

Well, we could do it, you know?

We should. Why not?

Let's just book the tickets, and let's do it.

Right. Well, at least screw someone, then.

- Hey, hey! - Whoo!

Hmm?

Christ, you're pretty.

It's fine.

Here she is. Good morning, Ruth.

Your French tutor's here.

She's been here for half an hour.

So sorry.

If you just give me one minute...

just one minute... sorry.

Is everything alright?

Fine.

I stayed at Jackie's.

You know what the girls are like.

Terrible racket.

We have the same problem at home.

Filthy pigeons.

You need to borrow this.

Ruth's French tutor saw it on his desk

and gave a sworn statement

that she could identify the gun in court.

I believe she saw a starter pistol

that Mr. Cussen kept in his flat.

She saw a large revolver.

A starter pistol

that Cussen surrendered to us freely for examination.

As to the taxi cab,

he said he gave that to his brother last year,

months before Mrs. Ellis committed the murder.

Couldn't possibly have driven her to the Magdala.

Have you verified that?

We interviewed Mr. Cussen at length

as to your claims.

Everything I told you, you already knew.

I understand you want to help your friend.

And that is admirable.

But nothing you can do can change the fact

Mrs. Ellis murdered David Blakely in cold blood.

Hey. You want her dead. All of you.

I want justice for Blakley's family.

It stinks, Ruth.

The whole thing stinks.

The police have covered things up...

evidence that would have helped you,

that linked Cussen to the gun.

I said I didn't want you going to the police.

If his involvement was known,

it would mean a retrial at least.

Desmond is innocent.

Then why hasn't he visited you once since the trial?

Jackie...

If it came out, everything would change.

People are on your side, Ruth. They're getting angry.

All the people I've spoken to agree.

What people?

I've been campaigning for you.

A petition. - What?

And these are letters of support.

Jackie, I told you.

I told I didn't want this.

I didn't want people out there begging for me.

People feel for you, Ruth.

They feel... - They feel pity.

I would rather them think I was a cold-hearted, murdering bitch

with no regrets.

- But that's not who you are. - Isn't it?

Perhaps it's just easier for you to think that.

Oh, poor, little Ruth.

David mistreated her so terribly.

She lost her mind. She had no choice.

I chose to make him die on the ground in front of me.

Maybe it's easier for you to think that,

to make yourself believe you deserve it.

But that's the coward's way out,

to give up rather than fighting. - Get out.

Get out, and don't visit me again.

They're going to kill you, Ruth.

And you're just as bad as them for letting it... - How dare you!

Get out! And take those fucking things with you!

Get out!

This is bigger than her now.

It's about Timothy Evans and Derek Bentley.

It's about the whole business

of whether the state should go on merrily hanging people,

only to later discover that maybe they weren't guilty.

The government is nervous.

They've promised law and order.

But the abolitionists are knocking at the gates.

And then what's next?

The homosexuals?

The abortionists?

So that's why they want her dead.

I just need a name.

But if no one will help her and she won't help herself...

Then you have to.

Desmond Cussen.

Ruth Ellis' lover?

Gave her the gun,

drove her to the scene of the murder in a black cab.

Her friend, Jacqueline Dyer, is certain.

Yeah, well, our libel lawyers are busy enough, son.

- She hangs in 10 days. - Bound to be reprieved.

90% of women are.

And what if she's not

and Desmond Cussen gets away with it?

30 million newspapers bought every Sunday in this country,

bought for two reasons... sex and hanging.

You're not here to fight crime. You're here to sell it.

Come back to me with proof and we can talk.

Hello, yes.

I'm calling about my son, Andre Ellis.

I want to check his school fees for the term had been paid.

Right.

Thank you. I'll make sure a cheque is sent

as soon as possible.

Ruth...

let me look after you all.

He will look after him.

He promised, whatever happens, he will look after him.

I swear it.

He will look after him.

- I swear it. - He will look after him.

He promised.

I swear it.

I was thinking...

about a holiday.

Get Andre out of London.

Scotland, I thought. I could teach him to fish.

David would lose his mind.

Let me deal with him.

It's a Christmas present.

Since you got me this exquisite tie.

- Same again? - Please.

Merry Christmas, Ruth.

What are you doing here?

I haven't slept with him,

if that's what you're worried about.

Look at you.

Drunk...

whilst your son is alone at home on Christmas night.

You're an embarrassment.

What are you doing here?

I'm wishing Merry Christmas to my fiancée.

Mm.

Let go of her.

You have no idea, do you...

...what she really thinks about you...

the contempt she feels for you?

Stop!

You little bastard.

Outside.

Now.

Outside?

How about hitting a man instead of a woman for once?!

It's over, you and Ruth.

You lost.

I know you're bored out of your skull with him.

This is what you need.

This is who you are.

Please.

Please, turn the light off.

Is it true that you have all been campaigning for me?

I told you,

no begging, no pleading!

You've seen what they've written about you.

I don't care what they write!

I want my sentence to take its course!

You will not go to the Home Office.

I will not die with this world thinking

I am some beaten, little fool!

- Well, that's it, then. - That is justice.

An eye for an eye,

as I have said from the start.

"An eye for an eye."

Yes.

You know...

...I was in Austria just after the war.

I was a prosecutor in the British Zone,

and I prosecuted a young German soldier.

His unit had been moving Hungarian Jews

in what later became called the death marches.

And these prisoners were exhausted,

barely able to walk.

And he was ordered to shoot anyone that fell.

And at first he refused,

but eventually,

he shot two men.

And after the war,

we tried him for murder, and we hanged him.

One week after he committed those crimes

in March 1945,

the Soviets liberated Vienna.

They were out for revenge, mainly drunk,

terrorising the city.

Perhaps a hundred-thousand women were raped.

Not one single charge was brought against any of them.

Because they were on our side.

Justice isn't real, Ruth.

It's a story written by the winners.

I'm not certain of much, but...

I know you don't deserve to die for what you did.

You will look after him.

You promise. Whatever happens.

I swear it.

John...

He made certain promises.

Desmond?

He promised to look after Andre.

And I don't think he's going to.

I told you he gave me the gun.

Perhaps it's time to use that.

We can't.

You know we can't.

It's too late.

You told me you wanted me to tell them.

Ruth, a better way...

is to go for the violence, your miscarriage...

what David did to you,

the... the child you would have had.

I think I'm pregnant.

Only a couple of weeks but I can feel it.

Christ.

I'll call Dr Jameson. Make an appointment.

It's really no worse than getting a tooth out.

I don't want you to get rid of it.

Don't you?

But no more Desmond Cussen.

We find somewhere to live.

As a family.

And we visit my mother

and tell her we're getting married.

Alright then.

I still don't understand why you can't stay here with me.

Well, if you and I are to have a future together,

I need to build up my own life first.

My independence.

A home for Andre.

I've found a bed sitting room.

It's cheap.

Look, I know how much I've already asked of you...

How much do you need?

We would like the Home Secretary to consider

provocation in the case of Ruth Ellis.

She was suffering enormously at the time of the offence.

She had had a miscarriage caused by Blakely's violence.

It wasn't fully explored at trial.

And there's a petition.

50,000 signatories, from Australia,

America, France, Germany.

And, err, hundreds of letters.

I hope the Home Secretary will consider them.

Well, they are not all in Mrs. Ellis's favour.

"I am married to a woman similar in nature

to Ruth Ellis... eaten up with jealousy through and through.

I greatly fear that my future safety would be at stake

if you granted a reprieve".

And many women express concern

that clemency should not be granted merely

because she is female.

I hope the Home Secretary will concentrate on the facts.

The facts are simple.

Mrs. Ellis committed a firearms murder in cold blood.

There may have been other factors.

Such as?

She will not act to save herself.

She will not let me act to help her.

She practically wouldn't let me to put her case in front of you.

She's determined to die

because she feels like her life is not worth saving.

You must act now, in the name of justice.

In the name of mercy. She will hang in five days.

I just need more time.

For God's sake, a... a... a bit more time.

Forgive me, sir.

I'm sorry.

I will speak to the Home Secretary.

He's not without compassion. Quite the opposite.

Have you heard of a woman called Sarah Lloyd?

Who?

She's a woman on death row at Strangeways.

She was convicted for the murder

of an elderly neighbour with a shovel.

Due to be hanged in two days.

But Lloyd George has just reprieved her.

Provocation over time wasn't a factor in her conviction

but it has been a factor in her reprieve.

So that's good, isn't it?

It could be bloody brilliant.

God.

And it all belongs to your parents?

Yes, all theirs.

It's a bit suburban, really.

Still it's nice to have the tennis court.

You nervous?

A bit.

Well, I tell you what. Let's go grab a drink first.

Hm?

Alright.

Your friends are here.

Oh, we often drink here on Sundays.

Then roll up at my parents' demanding roast beef.

Look, just a quick one, promise.

- Oh, here he is. Hello. - Oh, David.

Well, I thought I'd come a bit early.

Hello. How was the drive?

Oh, it was alright.

And the maître d' says to him, "I'm sorry, sir,

these tables are reserved for the race car drivers",

and Ant just looks at him and says "Now look here, old chap,

we are the bloody race.

- Now bring us some champagne". - Bring us some champagne.

You would have been so proud.

Have you been to Le Mans?

No, I've never been to France.

I've never actually been abroad.

Perhaps he'll take you.

For your honeymoon. Well, he told us.

Congratulations. Come on, a toast.

For the soon-to-be Mr. And Mrs. David Blakely!

- Cheers. - Cheers.

Mr. and Mrs. David Blakley.

And you'd better make sure you take the bins out on time.

Or she'll sending the gangsters round to make sure you do!

What?

Come along, we should go.

We don't want to keep your mother waiting.

Yes, quite right, mustn't keep Annie waiting.

No, I tell you what. Why don't I go and get her

and bring her back for a G&T before lunch.

Well, no, I'll come.

No. You stay.

Have fun.

I'm sorry about all that. They can be so childish.

What did they mean? About the gangsters?

When David was attacked, he had this idea...

perhaps it was just a joke...

that you'd sent the men to do it.

- It wasn't me. - David's no angel.

God knows he deserves a black eye now and then.

He'll never introduce you to his mother, you know.

We're getting married. We're actually...

We're actually having a baby.

No, you're having a baby.

It's not a judgement, simply a fact.

David will never truly know if the baby is his.

Did he say that?

I'm not trying to be cruel.

What you and David have, it isn't love.

It's a trap, for both of you. And my advice is get out now.

David! Didn't your mother fancy a drink?

No, she was... she was busy.

You're a cruel little coward, David.

I'll drive you back to London.

Thank you.

Least I could do.

I've got a bottle of gin inside

if you want to come in for a drink?

How far along are you, anyway?

- About six weeks. - Gosh.

The taste of gin would have made me heave at six weeks.

Strong stomach.

Ruth, Ruth, the evening paper's in.

I'm so sorry. It's your friend Vicki.

Mrs. Ellis. The decision's in.

From the Home Secretary.

On your reprieve.

"I have been pressed from many quarters

to exercise clemency in this case,

on the grounds of the prisoner's sex and of her yielding to

jealousy, which is alleged by some people

to be stronger in women than in men".

Are you going to get up today?

It was Vicki's 13th accident in 4 years.

When your time's up, it's up.

Where've you been?

If you must know, I stayed at Carole and Ant's.

Course you did.

You haven't been to the Doctor

about your pregnancy yet, have you?

Not yet.

You should be, what, 10 weeks now?

I spoke to Carole about it all.

She said your symptoms are all wrong.

That it's all very convenient, forcing us to get married.

And I think she's right.

It's not just the accent,

the hair that's fake, is it?

You're not really pregnant, are you?

What?!

"There may be circumstances in a capital case

where special conditions apply to a woman

which would not be applicable in the case of a man.

One recent example is that of Mrs. Sarah Lloyd.

I can find no such circumstances, however,

in the present case".

After everything I've done for you.

Brought you into my world.

Loved you. Fucking worshipped you.

And all along you were working out how to trap me.

- That's not true. - Hmm. You had me beaten.

- I didn't... - To scare me into thinking

I could never leave. - I didn't do that...

And then you went to work on my honour.

Knowing I'd never abandon you

if you were having a child.

David, I am pregnant. I swear...

"The crime was a deliberate one

and was carried out with premeditation.

The prisoner has expressed no remorse.

I can find nothing

to justify my taking a less serious view than

of other cases of such a callous and calculated nature".

Oh, God. Oh, God. Don't let me do it.

Oh, God, don't let me do it.

"The trial judge has told me

that he can suggest no mitigating circumstances,

and that he himself was not able to find any grounds

for proposing that clemency would be appropriate".

"After much anxious thought,

I have come to the conclusion

that the law should be allowed to run its course".

One of these days I will kill you.

You've already done that.

The sentence will be carried out.

Two days from now.

Well, I bet Mummy has really missed you.

Andre, go and play.

Go on.

It's all I could do.

Maybe now you can get some sleep.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I know what you want to ask.

Why don't I just bloody leave him.

I don't have to ask that.

Not after Dad.

George.

You've never known any different.

Don't think you deserve any different.

You said it would be enough.

The violence. The miscarriage.

You told me it would be enough for a reprieve.

The game is rigged, Ruth.

Why did you tell me to keep quiet?

- Because it was too late. - For who?

For you?

You chose to perjure yourself

and make me an accessory to murder.

You promised that you would help me.

But you haven't.

Every step of the way, you have made it harder

and harder for me to help save your life.

And I've never understood why.

Do you know about what George used to do?

He used to get blackout drunk.

And when he would come home, it would always be my fault,

and he would belt me.

And people would always say to me,

"What do you do to drive him to it?

What do you do to drive them all to it?"

Because you know every man I have ever been with

has turned out the same.

Drunk. Violent.

And it must've been my fault because it kept on happening.

Different man, same thing.

I tried so hard to escape it.

I changed my voice, changed the way I look.

I worked and I worked.

The youngest club manager in London.

And I thought I'd done it.

And then David turned up.

And he was worse than all of them.

And I thought there must be something in me

that is pulled towards them, towards men like him.

I just didn't know what.

And then when he was dead...

...the police and the papers and the lawyers,

they all made sense of it for me, at last.

I had my answer.

The reason I couldn't escape it

was because it was what was always meant for me.

A common little tart,

worth nothing to anyone except the price

she can charge for a night

finally getting what she had coming to her.

And I would still believe that,

if it weren't for you.

But you gave me hope.

Hope that I could live.

That I didn't deserve to die.

You're scared of them, aren't you?

All those men you talked about that could destroy me.

You never really believed you could save me, did you?

I'll be appointing a new solicitor.

Goodbye, Mr. Bickford.

You found your husband in the marital bed

with a lady who goes by the professional moniker

"Madame Feather".

- That's right. - He has agreed to a divorce.

You say you only want what's rightfully yours.

Yes.

Mr. Mishcon's office.

We'll get you the whole bloody lot.

Thank you.

Telephone for you, sir.

It's Holloway prison.

Bickford?

I'm Victor Mishcon. I handled Ruth's divorce.

I believe she's asked for me.

Why has she fired you?

I've been carrying a bomb in my briefcase.

And I didn't have the guts to detonate it.

Try to get her to tell you about the gun.

Mrs. Ellis.

I believe you have something to tell me

that might save your life.