Original subtitles

- Caroline Kerr? - Yes.

D.C.I. Morck.

- I can't help you. - It's okay. I'm here to help you.

Don't look at him. Look at me.

- He's not gonna hurt you. - Please.

So my partner and I, James Hardy, we both got shot at exactly the same time.

First bullet, through his spine, traveled in here, out here.

Second one damaged his radial nerve.

So he can't walk. He's partially paralyzed.

- I'm very sorry. - I only lost a tooth. Look.

But I remember you, with your baby, that day.

I remember you walking past as Hardy and I got out of the car.

I don't remember you... or your partner.

His name's James Hardy, and you're lying, but I'm not here to talk about him.

I'm here to talk about P.C. Anderson, the third cop, who died at the scene.

- What about him? - Did you know him?

- Why would I? - He grew up in Leith Park like you.

I bet he still had mates there, popped in for a visit now and again,

possibly not in uniform.

I didn't see anything.

A lot of crime goes on in that place that no one sees.

I wouldn't know.

All of it run by a fella by the name of Eugene Errington.

Do you know him?

- Everyone knows him. - Not everyone has a kid with him.

Please go.

- Keep looking at me. - You're gonna get me killed.

You talking about the bug-faced arsehole behind me, Charlie Bell? We know him.

He's got a dozen outstanding warrants

for an impressive array of criminal activity,

ranging from assault, spousal abuse,

possession of burglary tools, which...

Even I didn't fucking know that was a crime until yesterday.

- Charlie works for Eugene. - Everyone works for Eugene.

- Eugene owns this shop. - He owns everything.

What about P.C. Anderson? Did Eugene own him?

I wouldn't know.

Charlie there behind me is Eugene's muscle, is he not?

His name keeps coming up every time I mention Leith Park.

Just look at me, Caroline. That's it.

Charlie's not our shooter. He doesn't have the same eyes.

But I'll bet he was in the car, I'll bet you saw him on the day,

and I'll also bet that you hate that psycho,

that you are fucking sick and tired of being scared shitless every day.

Okay.

In a few seconds, I'm gonna walk out of that door.

As soon as I do, I want you to get underneath this desk and stay there.

What?

Do not move until someone comes in here

and tells you everything's gonna be all right.

Please do as I say, Caroline.

Thank you.

Hey, Charlie. Remember me, eh?

You don't remember me? Oh, come on, man.

You fuckin' wankstain, eh?

That's a gun. I'm sure you're familiar.

Oh, look. There's another one.

All yours.

Charlie Bell, you are under arrest...

Hey, Detective!

How's your partner?

Is he still a fucking crip?

Oh, now you've done it.

Right properly fucked yourself up the arse.

Jesus Christ.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, la, la

La, la, la

La, la, la

I'm sorry I kicked you.

I gave you a painkiller with your sedative.

Probably won't help,

but you'll have a headache when you finally wake up,

which probably won't be for another few hours.

I think about you all the time.

I think about us.

How things could have happened... different.

For fuck's sake.

Do what you have to do and get out of there.

She's awake.

She's all dwammy. She's nae gonna remember any of it.

I love you so much.

What the fuck are you doing now?

Now go!

Jesus.

Ouch.

Deep breath.

Bird flaps its wings.

One more.

Now, daughter on the mountain top.

Live the daughter. Be the daughter.

Breathe the daughter.

What the fuck?

Jasper is learning that guns and fists are not the only solution. Pulling taffy.

And what, weird ballet is? Jesus.

This is not ballet.

This is tai chi.

And it's a crying shame that more people don't practice it.

The crying shame is that people don't fight in slow motion.

It's not f...

Forget it.

Rolling clouds.

Speaking of slow,

can you get your arse in gear?

- When you're late, I get into trouble. - It's fine. Gemma's giving me a lift.

- Who? - Gemma. You met her the other day.

Oh.

- Gemma and Jasper? - Mm.

Perfect. About that...

No, no, no. Please, I beg you. Not about that.

- Are you using protection? - La, la, la.

How do you think you got here? Hey!

Trust me when I tell you you do not want one of you at your age.

So bag it up. Preferably use two.

James Reynolds, is that it?

I don't want this stuff.

It's been a year. We think you've earned it.

How thoughtful of you.

We just want you to be comfortable.

Fuck you and your comfort!

Was it John McCafferty?

George McGovern?

Maggie Thomas?

Seamus Reynolds, is that it? Is that why I'm here?

I need something to write with.

Dean Maclean. Kenny Flockhart.

Can I have another color, please?

Adam Kunnacht.

Was it Shona...

Brookes?

Sue Crawshaw? Brandon McLoughlin?

Sometimes I imagine that I'm in a little spaceship.

Maybe I'll figure out how to fly it away somewhere.

Wouldn't that be nice?

Thomas... Katie McCauley?

Shelley O'Brian? Brooke Copson? Craig Munroe? Mark Fraser?

Saskia Gilmore? Conrad Cooper? Um...

Rory Byrne?

Robert O'Donoghue? Is it him?

John McDonald? Kevin O'Toole?

Thomas Laidlaw?

Taylor Napier?

Mark Thomas? Charlotte Carter?

Kirsty Atkins?

All these people she's ruined,

she doesn't seem to give a shite about.

If she hasnae got it sorted after four years, she isnae gonna.

Four years is a long time. Maybe it's time to let her go.

Let her go?

She doesn't know who we are or where she is.

Have you lost your feckin' mind?

No.

No.

Fu... no!

Give it back.

What you talking about, dearie?

- My necklace. - What about it?

You took it.

Must have... fallen off when you made your wee bolt for freedom.

Please.

I'll have a look around, but...

you really shouldn't be up and about, pet.

Or have you forgotten what rapid decompression does to a person?

It's been a while since you heard the recording.

- Let's remind you. - No.

Symptoms of rapid decompression include the following.

No, stop, please.

Fatigue, muscle and joint pain,

and loss of consciousness.

I've accepted that her dying

with or without knowing why

will still give me the peace I deserve.

Stop!

Carl.

- What are you doing here? - We need to talk.

Talk? No. Now's not a good time.

I'll be quick. I did what you said. I've started a dream journal.

Carl, stop. How did you know I was here?

- I pinged your phone. - You what?

It's not that hard when you know the guy I know.

Okay, you have to leave. I'm meeting someone.

So is this a date?

No one goes on a date in the middle of the day for a coffee.

- Do they? - It's a thing now.

It's supposed to take the pressure off.

So this is a date.

Is that him?

Carl, this is borderline stalking.

What about him? Beardy McMan-bun.

Do you know what? I... I take it back. This is actual stalking.

Can I just tell you about the dream I keep having?

- Please tell me I'm not in it. - What? No, no.

And it's not like that. No.

I keep shooting people.

Shooting people. Okay.

They're all suspects and perps from my past.

Sometimes it's the suspect in my shooting. Sometimes it's just a guy I put away.

Once it was a guy who was dead when we found him.

What do you think it means?

I don't have a scooby. What do you think it means?

I don't have a scooby. That's why I'm asking you.

Can you hear the gunshots in the dream?

I think so.

Do you try to reload?

I might.

And can you?

Reload?

If I can't, what does that mean? I can't get it up?

Honestly, Carl, I could give a shit.

Martin seems to think this could represent a good thing.

- Martin, your lodger? - Mm, yeah. Like I'm finally taking action.

Martin sounds smart. Maybe you should be talking to him.

- Rachel? - Ben?

My brother was just leaving.

Aye.

Call you later, sis.

Hi.

I have to get out of here.

- So go. - I'm serious.

I'm not gonna survive if I stay here another fucking second.

Wee bit dramatic, don't you think?

I just need some money.

How much could it take?

Few quid for the ferry and a room somewhere?

That'll get me off the island, but I need enough to last me until I'm 18.

What happens then?

I get something from my mum's family.

- How big a something? - They're rich as fuck.

And what about William?

Aye, he gets something too.

- You don't care about leaving him? - Why would I?

He can look after himself. He's Mr. Fucking Perfect after all.

Not sure I could leave my brother with my mum.

- No one's asking you to. - I know.

I'm just saying that your da might be a wee bit depressed.

A wee bit?

And my mum... she's fucking gyte.

She burned our fucking house down.

I thought that was an accident.

I thought Lyle was playing with matches or something.

If you call flicking lit cigarettes at my da while he's sleeping an accident.

Mm.

Me and Lyle weren't even there.

And I thought my life was fucked up.

One of my mum's diamond rings could...

probably get me a whole new life.

Why hasn't your da sold any of it?

No, he has sold some of it.

He's pawned some of it.

He goes straight down the pub

and comes home crying like a wee bairn every time.

What about that necklace?

No, I'm not selling this.

Then what you gonna do?

Harry, it's all I have of her, all right?

I'll figure something out.

Fucking have to.

Well, if you wanted me to come with you...

...I would.

One diamond ring could probably pay

for a whole year's worth of rent.

And it'd be so easy too.

He keeps all of her things in a drawer unlocked.

You mean steal it?

Yeah, but...

I couldn't do that though.

No, he'd know it was me,

and then he'd chase me down until the end of fucking time.

Is there a night William's not home?

Monday evenings.

William has Bible study.

- Bible study? Are you fucking kidding? - Shh.

William found God.

More like a girl named Margot who likes to go.

And your da? He'll be at the pub?

Yeah, or an AA meeting, depending on what's happened that day.

No, you're not gonna do what I think you think you're gonna do.

Why not? Everyone already thinks I'm stealing from them.

Because it's a lame fucking idea, Harry.

You'll get caught and make everything so much worse.

- I won't get caught. - No, forget I said anything, all right?

It's just talk.

- It's just talk, Harry. Okay? - Okay.

Oh, God.

William!

Sam Haig was in court every day.

He was there for Merritt.

But he also gave information to Finch's lawyer that would hurt Merritt.

So...

was Sam Haig helping her or was he hurting her?

I don't know.

Which is why we're all sitting here, staring at the fucking toilets.

So, see when we first met, be honest, what did you first think of me?

- Thought you were obnoxious. - Obnoxious?

Mm. So obnoxious.

And cheeky as fuck.

You're clearly an amateur.

"Now, get up and do as I say,

and don't take pics of my balls."

- Didn't say the last bit. - You most certainly did.

I said, "glittered balls."

Which sadly turns out to be a lie.

I like this.

I remember you were wearing it at the pub. And... in the gardens?

You remembered this?

What, am I wrong?

Suits you. Almost like you were born with it, yeah.

Yeah, in a way I was.

You never take it off?

Mm-mm.

Good luck charm then.

Not at all.

Certainly was for me.

No, seriously, I think it might even be cursed.

Why wear it, then?

'Cause...

it's all that's left.

Left of what?

Or left of who?

Did you even try to look for me?

- I'll be gone for a while. - Where?

Mhòr, for a bit.

But what's on Mhòr for you?

My father.

Mm.

- So how long you be gone? - Who knows.

Wow. "Who knows" is code for forever.

Please. I'm not going home to live with my father.

I need to see him. And then, uh...

And then what?

- I'll ring when I get back. - Which is when?

I don't know. When I get back.

- You're a right font of information. - Can't we just fuck without sharing?

Is that what we're doing now?

"Just fucking"?

What did you think this was?

I have to go.

But you can stay. Order some room service. Make a day of it.

Hey, Merritt.

Fuck you.

There's a 10:00 a.m. boat.

Come with us.

"Us"?

My brother and me.

I'd like you to meet him.

- I understand. - Merritt...

No, really, it's fine. I wouldn't wanna go with me either.

Sorry, Sam.

Leave her be.

Look, I don't know if Sam was having a relationship with this, um...

- Merritt Lingard. - Yeah, this Merritt person.

But if it was personal, he never mentioned it.

If it was professional, there's no way he would've told me.

We don't know what it was yet.

How does this help in our investigation?

It helps in your investigation into who killed Sam Haig.

- We're not investigating Haig's death. - Well, maybe you should be.

Well, Merritt, looks like someone felt bad for you.

As nice as I'm sure that feels,

I think we've reached the end of our time together.

But before we go,

I need you to help us settle an argument we've been having.

Fuck you.

Just...

just kill me.

See, one of us thinks

that you can't figure out why you're here

because it was so long ago.

And you just need some help.

And one of us thinks you're just a selfish cunt

who can't give a flying fuck for anyone but yourself.

Merritt, please, if you want to get out, then you need to answer the question.

Why are you here?

So...

was Sam Haig helping her, or was he hurting her?

Maybe both.

Maybe both what?

Dennis Piper said that Haig was spending time at Godhaven

right before he died.

He was writing a story about his time there.

It doesn't matter.

The only thing that matters is why was he spending so much time at Godhaven

slap bang in the middle of the fucking Graham Finch trial?

Come on.

Merritt, come on, think.

I can't think. Help me.

Last time we saw each other, it was... Ow, fuck off!

- It was at a funeral. Fuck off! - Enough!

Get the fuck outta here!

We know that Sam Haig was at the hotel with Merritt,

September 24th, two days before he died.

He couldn't have been. He was at the other hotel with Paul Evans's wife.

And he was with both Paul and Chloe earlier, drinking.

Unless Paul Evans was lying.

Why make up something so potentially embarrassing?

So Haig was with Merritt Lingard and Chloe Evans at the same time?

Or... not at the same time but on the same day?

It was two different people.

So... assuming this Sam Haig Chloe and Paul Evans knew

was the real Sam Haig,

who the fuck

was spending all that time with Merritt in room 401?

Last time we saw each other, it was at a funeral!

- Fuck off! Enough! - Enough!

Harry's funeral?

- ...ruin everything, ya' bastard! - Would you get off?

Are you talking about Harry's funeral?

You stupid bastard!

- I want her to say it. - Harry Jennings?

Harry Jennings?

Is that...

Am I here because of Harry Jennings?

What? The same...

Harry Jennings who got pissed and fell off the back of a ferry?

Why was he on that ferry, Merritt?

He was running away.

From what?

What do you mean, "From what?" From... From what he did.

You killed him.

What?

Just as you did Sam Haig.

Just as you did your ane brother.

No, no, no. What? Is my brother dead?

Everything you've touched is.

Is my brother dead? You're gonna kill me anyway. Just tell me.

In a way.

But you already know that you're the reason he became what he is.

Just as you already know that you're the reason Sam Haig died.

Just as you already know that you're the reason

my beautiful boy was taken from me.

Your boy?

Harry was your boy?

Ailsa.

Ailsa?

Is that you?

Come on.

Wait, and the other one? Who... Who's... Who's the other one?

Come on.

There was a brother.

Smells like sex.

Is that who you are?

You don't remember me.

I remember.

Harry said you weren't right in the head.

Lyle.

Is that you?

Lyle?

I'm sorry...

about what happened

to your brother.

But, bitch, if you think

I'm gonna take the blame for the death of your idiot son

after what that radge bastard did to my beautiful brother...

Harry was there to do your dirty work.

No one asked him to!

He was a sweet lad,

but even on his best day, Harry couldnae rub two thoughts together.

Lyle was always the smart one.

So don't you tell me...

I sure as fuck didn't tell him to beat my brother into a coma!

All this time, this has been about... Harry Jennings?

Harry Jennings

deserved to die.

So if that's why I'm here,

so you can watch me grovel over him,

it's too fucking bad

because I will never apologize to you

or his psychotic brother

for what Harry Jennings did to William.

Ready when you are, bitch.

Sam?

No, Sam!

Sam!

Oh, there he is.

My other issue,

the Mhòr king of Hotel Hochmagandy himself,

Lyle Jennings.

And worry not, lass.

There's cures for ills that smite the heart.

Just try to focus on the task at hand.

As far as we're all concerned...

what's happening right in front of us

is the only thing happening.

I see you, Mr. and Mrs. Polis.

Just hold your fucking horses.

It's not a very progressive thing to say, I know,

but there are two kinds of kids who come here.

The kind you can help and the kind you cannae.

The kinds no one can.

Budding sociopaths and the complete psychopaths.

Well, I'm the one who gets them.

The worst of the worst. The irredeemable. The completely fucking hopeless.

What makes you so uniquely qualified?

I'm one of them, so I know how to reach them.

What? By teaching them how to knit?

And make their beds.

Clean the loo.

Make a fucking Chinese chicken salad.

All the wee joy

and the... the wee mundane of life.

- Does it work? - Yeah. It definitely distracts them.

What kind of a kid was Sam Haig?

Sam was anyone he needed to be in order to get whatever he wanted.

I'd call him more sociopath than psychopath.

Why was he here?

He had a relationship with one of his teachers.

Doesn't the teacher usually get the blame?

Not if the student steals the teacher's bank cards

and fucks the PIN number out of her.

He was, uh, 15 year old for that one.

What, there were others?

Aye, quite a few.

Sam never had friends. He had targets.

One of whom may have chucked him off a cliff.

There's probably a long list of people who could've done that to him.

So four years ago Sam Haig turns up here, and he wants to talk about... what?

He said he wanted to write a book about his time here.

You didn't believe him?

Well, he... he seemed more interested in talking about one of the other lads.

- The other lad he nearly beat to death? - How'd you know about that?

There's a lovely recording of your interview

with Sam talking about him.

I assume you're referring to the recording Sam Haig stole during his visit.

I couldn't say.

It was sent to me by a reporter who claims he found it on Sam's laptop.

Was he asking about Rocket?

Rocket?

The kid Sam beat up.

- His name was Rocket? - This is Scottish slang for "crazy."

I thought "Scottish" was Scottish slang for "crazy."

Well, Sam met his match with Rocket, that's for sure.

The kid was scary as fuck when he got off the bus,

but after he got that fucking dead eye...

Dead eye?

One of his eyes was black.

But not to begin with.

Not until Sam Haig kicked the color right out of it.

Does Rocket have a given name?

Lyle Jennings.

Lyle Jennings?

Really? Brother of Harry Jennings.

Who robbed the Lingards and attacked William.

So you know about Lyle?

No, but we'd like to.

State your name for the record please.

Lyle Jennings.