Original subtitles

When it comes down to it,

I think women marry out of love

and men marry out of necessity.

When I first met Simon,

he was so hopeless he couldn't even boil an egg.

When I first met Bridget,

she was so posh

she couldn't name all four members of the Beatles.

That is such crap.

She was all Iris Murdoch and Beethoven.

Leave my sister alone.

What's wrong with Iris Murdoch and Beethoven?

- She even looked like Beethoven. - Oi!

Hold my bag.

I'm not carrying your handbag.

I'll carry your jacket, but not your handbag.

What's the difference?

Carrying your jacket says "I love this woman"

and later we're going to have vigorous sex.

Carrying your handbag...

well, that's something else entirely.

What?

What's wrong?

Nothing.

My stocks are almost wiped out,

I can hardly bear to think about it.

Oh, Christ, Bridge, why didn't you sell when you had the chance?

Tom?

- Bye Muriel. - Bye.

I didn't marry you for your money.

Yeah, good job.

We're going to have to think seriously about selling the house.

Maybe,

maybe not.

Did Geoff call about the option?

Don't be gnomic, Tom.

I like being gnomic Tom.

- Tom, tell me... - No.

Tom!

Ambulance, I need an ambulance quick, please.

It's 56 Redcroft Drive, Hampstead.

It's my wife...

I think she's fallen down the stairs...

Try to stay calm, please. Now, an ambulance...

Please!

I need to ask you some questions.

Is your wife breathing?

No, no, I don't know...

Can you check?

I don't think so.

If you try and find out if she's still breathing.

Oh, my God, please, please send someone quick, please!

OK...

Yep, well, I shall be there, bye.

Just what I wanted, a suspicious death in Hampstead!

Staircase fall.

Mind if I tag along?

It's late, and you've been working very hard all day.

So?

So, "Get a bloody life".

Last year I contributed to a Danish paper on...

Oh, God.

... accidental stair injuries in children.

Irrelevant, the deceased's 40.

Still, the mechanical principles hold true...

How we all do adore those mechanical principles.

Big turn-out for a tumble down the stairs.

Yeah.

Pupils were dilated to 6mm indicating a lack of oxygen to the brain.

No verbal activity, no motor response, no spontaneous eye movement...

What about the blood? Too much?

More than I've ever seen at a stair fall.

- And some of it was dry. - Who was here first?

We were. Just after eleven.

Dr. Harry Cunningham and Dr. Nikki Alexander, Pathology Units.

DS Simon Vedder.

Victim's name is Bridget Flannery,

investment banker, 40 years old...

there seems to be a lot of blood...

quite a lot for a staircase fall

so there's a question of how she got into that state...

This scene's a shambles.

Her body's in a straight line.

No abnormal angulation of the neck.

Multiple lacerations of the deceased's scalp.

Possible defensive injury to the deceased's wrist.

One bloody hand half-clenched in her lap.

Dried blood covering the soles of her feet.

These injuries did not come from a staircase fall.

Not a fall, but possibly multiple falls.

She could've tried to stand and slipped.

Are you telling me your

Danish study uncovered loads of staircase bloodbaths?

Yes, actually. Notably a 16-year-old-boy in the Orkneys.

- In the Orkneys? - Yes, and I have photos.

Yes, I bet you do.

Some of the blood has dried.

The floor's warm. Under-floor heating.

Yes, thank you. So, the drying

may not indicate an earlier time of death.

Excuse me!

Why hasn't he been processed?

Give me a break, we're shorthanded.

Could you find me another SOCO suit, please?

Thanks.

I'm sorry about your wife.

It's our anniversary tomorrow.

I tried to resuscitate her.

I know you're not supposed to if you don't know what you're doing, but...

Christ...

They're going to crucify me.

Detective Superintendent Gaynor Jenkins.

I'm sorry for your loss.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask them.

If you want us to contact anyone, we can do that for you.

Can we get Mr. Flannery out of these clothes ASAP?

Absolutely.

You went out to turn the pool lights off,

came in and found your wife on the bottom of the stairs?

No, I was outside already.

Sorry. I was told you said you went out to turn the lights off.

How long were you out here?

I don't know.

About an hour.

- An hour? - Yeah.

- What were you doing? - Reading.

Listening to my iPod.

- Smoking a spliff. - For an hour?

Actually, I do have a question.

How well did you know Bill Hayden?

Guv.

I need you to come and have a look at something.

Would you do me a small favour?

My daughter Anna's a nurse,

she's at Hampstead Royal Infirmary. She's working tonight.

I'm sorry, it's not my place...

Bridget was her stepmother, but...

..but she raised her like a daughter.

I need you to put this on.

You know,

I just wanted her to hear it from a human being.

Pathologists don't normally work in pairs.

Dr. Alexander has an interest in staircase falls.

You think this is a staircase fall?

That was the initial information.

Well, let's say that information's wrong.

What kind of weapon would do this?

A bloody one.

Shame his garden backs onto Hampstead Heath.

Can I ask you a scientific question?

Does that look weird to you?

I saw a policewoman who looked liked she'd slipped in blood.

I'd check they're not her prints.

Who's turned those lights on?!

Can I suggest someone keep an eye on the husband?

We'll keep an eye on him all, right?

I meant, I think he might try to take his own life.

Thanks for your concern.

Can't shake the utterly unscientific impression

that his shock's for real.

Good job you're off the clock.

- He was hyperventilating. - Oh, was he?

You know that just means breathing very fast.

Anyone can do it.

I'm doing it now.

I've got bloody shoeprints leading towards a sink

and an open box of paper towels.

Did he say "I can't believe she's dead?"

That's a very a bad sign.

Bill Hayden, why do I know that name?

Ex-counter terrorist chief who hanged himself.

That's right, after that Turkish boy was shot on the bus by SO19?

Yeah. Or at least after Tom Flannery wrote a book about it.

- Is he under arrest? - Absolutely not.

Just a friendly chat.

Shock doesn't always equal innocence.

Come on, I'll give you a ride home.

Don't worry, it's out of your way.

No, it's fine.

Honestly, I'll grab a cab.

All right.

To see a doctor, that's all I'm asking...

Dr. Law, Dr. Law I came to see you, but they said you were busy...

Sorry, Anna's now been on sick leave for months.

Could you check? Her father told me...

Excuse me, how much longer?

About half an hour, can you sit down, please?

- Thak you. - Sorry.

Her father told me that she was working here tonight?

Amanda's at it again, we may need to call the police.

- Right. - Look at you!

Look at you, just laughing, laughing!

How dare you carry on like that!

You're right, she's back on.

She must be on her break.

You! Why wont you!

Anna?

Hi, I'm Nikki Alexander, I'm a Home Office pathologist.

Is it Dad?

Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?

Is he OK? Has he had a heart attack?

No, it's not...

it's not your dad,

it's your stepmother.

Bridget?

Yes, I'm afraid she's dead.

When?

This evening.

How?

She was found at the bottom of the stairs.

Is this a joke?

I'm afraid not.

You're confused. There's been a mix-up.

No, there hasn't.

I'm really, really sorry.

Anna?

His lawyer's Gemma King,

so we're dotting i's and extending every courtesy.

- Got it? - All right, Guv!

I appreciate how hard this must be for you

and this is the last place you want to be,

but it's important that we establish...

Cut the crap.

You want to exploit my client's shock and grief to carry out a fishing trip.

A woman has died.

There are questions we need answers to.

At 2 o'clock in the morning?

Mr. Flannery is here voluntarily.

He can go any time he wants.

She can ask her questions.

Thank you.

So. It's ten o'clock, give or take,

and your wife decides to turn in?

- Yes. - That's the last time you saw her alive?

Yes.

- Night. - Night.

Was it normal for you and your wife to go to bed separately?

If we'd been drinking, I suppose.

Why if you'd been drinking?

Booze makes...

made...

Bridget sleepy,

I tend to get all wired.

- Wired? - Yeah.

You know, I do crazy things,

like talk , read, listen to music...

I called my dad. He's not answering.

He's at Finchley Road Police Station.

He's not under arrest, they're just taking a statement.

My dad would never, ever harm Bridget. Never.

I saw a lot of women come and go after Mum.

But they were soul mates.

I don't understand.

If you're a pathologist how come you ended up...

Your father asked me to tell you.

Right.

Technically, I'm off-duty so there was no conflict of interest.

Well, thank you.

So you tried to resuscitate her,

you called an ambulance,

and then what did you do?

I just sat there.

I held her hand.

You didn't, say, go into the utility room?

No.

So there's no reason why your

bloody shoeprints would be in that room?

No.

You didn't try and clean up the blood with paper towels?

No.

Did you try and leave the premises at all?

He already answered that question, he sat with her and...

And held her hand.

Of course.

Thank you.

- Tom, what is it about the utility room? - I don't know.

Well, they obviously think they've got something.

Look, Tom, if you don't tell me everything I can't...

I don't know what they're on about, OK?

I don't.

OK, well, look, try and get some sleep.

Something tells me we'll be back tomorrow.

I'm not allowed back to the house.

I'm going to have to check into a hotel.

Muriel's in the car.

She didn't want to come in.

Anna...

Dad, don't say anything. Seriously. You don't have to.

I want to.

It's got nothing to do with it.

No, it doesn't. But you must've had a moment when you heard?

No.

Anna...

How could you even ask me that?

I wouldn't blame you.

Well, I didn't, OK? I didn't. Not even for a second.

Thank you.

Muriel, I'm so sorry.

What happened?

Was she drunk?

No. She'd, she'd had a few drinks but...

How many?

What does it matter?

Because she was on Diazepam

for stress and anxiety.

I know you didn't know.

Stress and anxiety?

- About work? - What else?

She almost lost her job a month ago,

but she didn't tell you because God forbid she should distract you

- from your writing. - That's not fair, Muriel.

Oh, Tom!

The police want the power

to lock people up for 90 days.

'hey say it's in the public interest

but first

we have to decide if the police are fit

to make such momentous judgments.

'verything I've uncovered

suggests a culture of breathtaking moral cowardice

where shit rolls downhill and no-one puts their hand up to anything,

including the death of an 18-year-old boy

riddled with SO19 bullets

on a number 13 bus.

In this case, the villain of the piece was Deputy Assistant Commissioner Bill Hayden.

but sadly, this screw-you, Teflon attitude

is business as bloody usual in the UK today.

Thank you, Mr. Flannery, we'll have to leave it there.

With any luck we'll find the weapon and then we go back to bed.

I know how you feel.

It would help if we knew what we were looking for.

Morning, ma'am.

Negative on any blood in the car, guv.

What time's the post mortem?

About half nine, I'll check.

So if I do those three in the afternoon can you do the RTA in the evening?

Yeah.

Professor Dalton's mail. Impressive, eh?

Well with great power comes great responsibility, you know.

How was he on Monday, by the way?

All right. Bit of the old spark back.

Oh, good.

Hello.

Dr. Alexander?'

Speaking.

My name's Gemma King. I'm Tom Flannery's lawyer.

I was wondering...

How did you get this number?

I read your contribution to that Danish paper on stair falls.

Very impressive.

How did you get this number?

What are you doing for lunch?

Do you like French food?

She hung up on me.

- That's a shame. - We'll see.

Something tells me she'll come round.

- Francois? - Well, there's two

kites we can fly here.

Either your wife fell down the stairs

or someone broke in and killed her.

So, what we basically do now is go through all the facts

that support either hypothesis and then total them up at the end...

Tom,

are you all right?

Yeah, yeah.

OK.

Right.

Let's start with...

were all the doors locked?

Derek Tripp, CPS.

I'm pencilled to handle the Flannery case...

if it goes the distance.

Well, it's nice to meet you, Derek. But I'm late for the post mortem.

I just wanted to say, be careful.

I've got a strong stomach.

Flannery's got lots of friends in the media.

His name's often preceded by things like

"firebrand", "scourge" and "iconoclast".

Well, we've got a great press officer

who knows what all those words mean.

Any whiff of over-zealousness in

pursuing him will come back and haunt you.

And more importantly, us, if we take the case.

- Can you be more specific? - Sure.

You've got 40 officers on this and you don't even know if it's murder.

If by any chance he did kill his wife then...

Oh, please. I was born at night, but not last night.

This isn't about justice for Flannery's wife,

it's payback for Bill Hayden.

What have they promised you if you land this one?

- I'm just doing my job. - Good.

Because I'm not taking a case to court

just so the Met can settle a score.

When I find that murder weapon you won't have to.

Harry?

Present for you.

That case in the Orkneys.

The 16-year-old-boy who fell,

struck his head, lay prone,

got up, slipped in his own blood

and struck his head again. Twice.

OK, thanks. I'll have a look.

Do you mind if I observe?

No.

By the way, you know Flannery's made a lot of enemies inside the Met?

God! You think they pushed her down the stairs?

Dr. Alexander. Are you on or off this case?! I'm confused.

Well, it's Dr. Cunningham's case, but

I processed the blood evidence on Tom Flannery's clothing,

as you know so...

Made quite an impression on you, didn't he? Flannery?

Excuse me?

Any other errands he asked besides informing his daughter?

Of course not.

Glad to hear it.

Thank you.

It's Nikki Alexander.

What was it you wanted to talk to me about?

My office is being refurbished,

so I'm working out of my kitchen.

Tom and Anna you've met. That's Francois,

this is Bridget's sister Muriel.

- Hi. - Thanks for coming.

Nikki, I'm going to get right to it.

We want you to carry out a second autopsy.

Isn't that a little previous?

Because he hasn't been charged yet? Come on.

He hasn't even been arrested.

We all know where this is going.

It was murder from the moment they found out it was Tom Flannery's wife.

By "they" do you mean the police?

Specifically, friends of the late Bill Hayden.

Well actually, that much blood at a staircase fall would always generate suspicion.

But here you sit.

What was it about my shirt that got your attention?

Apart from the fact it had... er,

blood on it.

I can't get into that,

but I can give you the names of some excellent pathologists.

No good.

They weren't there last night.

And they probably didn't contribute to a Danish paper on staircase falls.

How do you know about that?

Francois's my investigator. He's very good.

They've been clever.

They've put a rising star in charge.

Detective Superintendent Gaynor Jenkins.

Different generation to Bill Hayden.

But the Met has a mentoring scheme and Gaynor Jenkins...

Was mentored by Commander Bill Hayden.

And the reason you know this is because of?

François.

Francois.

You're a useful chap to have about, François.

So?

So...

So let's establish a few ground rules.

As an expert witness, my duty remains to the Court.

I'm no liar for hire,

which means I call it as I see it.

Which means if you don't like my findings then that's tough...

I won't change anything to suit.

Not a word, not a comma.

Is that understood?

I expected nothing less.

Hello?

Right.

Gaynor Jenkins requests the pleasure of our company

at Finchley Road Police Station.

It means they had a good autopsy.

Harry.

Can I talk to you for a second?

I hear you're twicing us.

Crossing the floor.

Heard from who?

Why else would someone called Gemma King want to get hold of you?

So badly.

I suppose you want to see my PM report?

If that's OK.

"If that's OK?" It's my legal obligation.

I have to show you mine, you don't have to show me yours.

Twice over us.

- So everything's all right? - Why wouldn't it be?

I didn't go looking for the job in a fit of pique, by the way.

God, no. "No hay problema".

Harry!

Look, ordinarily, of course, it wouldn't be an issue but with

Leo away and a bunch of untrained assistants...

I know it's not the ideal way to pull together..

Exactly. But... look, I am nothing if not mature and magnanimous,

although none of this would've happened if I'd told you to sod off.

When I have the chance.

You mean if you didn't love my company so much?

No, I definitely mean if I told you to sod off

when I had the chance.

OK, I'll get you a copy of the report.

The body is that of a well-nourished adult female,

appearing approximately the recorded age of 40.

No decomposition changes are noted.

The deceased is in good general condition.

The deceased's head hair has been shaved off during the first

post mortem carried out by Dr. Harry Cunningham.

Both frenulae are torn,

associated with lacerations to the inner lips

and...

loosening of the front teeth, further evidence of blows to the face.

All these injuries are focused to the front of the face,

forehead, nose, mouth

as would be entirely expected

in the context of an unprotected fall forwards.

The rectangular bruising

and linear lacerations appear to be composed of

possibly overlapping linear tears,

which I interpret as being more than one impact to the front of the head.

The lacerations are complex,

but could have resulted from the head

striking against an uneven surface,

skirting board or even the edge of a step.

The presence of bilateral periorbital haematomas

and a nasal fracture support the opinion of a

frontal assault that included blows to the face.

In combination with the use of a weapon,

this would appear to be a sustained blunt force

traumatic attack focused to the head.

The nasal fracture is consistent with a fall,

and no lacerations or abrasions to the eyelids,

as may be seen in direct blows to the eyes.

Instead these have developed through blood

seeping into the soft tissues around the eyes

from the nasal fracture and forehead lacerations.

The lungs show no congestion,

consolidation or malignancy.

In other words, normal.

While there's little blood in the lungs,

there was evidence of bleeding in the nasal cavity

as a result of basal skull fractures.

If she really had been left beaten and

unconscious at the bottom of the stairs

I would have expected to see a significant volume of aspirated blood

or even blood trickling down the unprotected airways.

Cause of death,

blunt force trauma to the head,

attributable to an assault by a third party.

Thank you Dr. Cunningham.

That's an arrest.

All the injuries can be accounted for through

a fall downstairs, possibly whilst intoxicated.

The absence of defensive wounds

argues against deliberate blunt force trauma.

That's great.

That's just what we need.

Mr. Flannery,

how long is it since one of your books

made the Sunday Times bestseller list?

I don't know. About five years?

Detective Superintendent, my client is not looking for a new agent.

Murder On The 13 Bus didn't sell,

even with all those headlines.

It was a work of non-fiction.

That's a matter of opinion.

So, how much did you make last year?

- Roughly? - Bugger all.

A few hundred quid for talking crap on the telly

about the miners' strike and the cultural impact of the Sex Pistols.

So, last year, you were essentially dependent on your wife's income?

I cooked a bit of dinner, I put the Hoover round.

But if your wife had lost her job there'd

have been nothing to cook is my point.

I'd have sold the house.

Really?

The house in Hampstead?

Well, I don't own another one.

We've been talking to some of your wife's friends

who say the house means a lot to you.

That it's symbolic of your progress, your reinvention,

your acceptance into the London intelligentsia.

They accepted me? When?

No-one told me. Did they tell you?

Seriously, that is a load of shit.

I've made my career out of not reinventing myself,

I'm the token Northern gobshite.

So it's not true that two years ago Bridget wanted to sell

because the mortgage payments were biting,

but you insist on take out a loan?

I didn't want to sell, no.

And now, with the one million life assurance pay-out from Bridget's death, you won't have to.

Is that how much it is?

Well, that should tide me over for a bit, shouldn't it?

Bridget survived the last scalping at work,

but it was only a matter of time.

Did she tell you that you were going to have to sell?

Did you panic?

I mean, no-one wants to see their life sliding backwards,

especially when you've come so far,

because once that process starts then...

Once it starts what?

I've had more comebacks than Madonna.

Not lately you haven't.

You're running on empty.

You're dried up, and your worst nightmare is going back to Moss Side with your tail between legs.

I go back to Moss Side all the time.

And when the train leaves Manchester, you feel the relief pouring off you?

Actually, I drive.

- You take my point. - Yes, I do.

You're a very perceptive young woman.

I feel exactly the same when I go home to Gravesend.

OK.

You're right.

Creatively, I am running on empty

and, yes, the pool, the view from Parliament Hill

and the smile the maitre d' gives me every time I walk into the Ivy

do mean a shameful amount to me.

And, yes, losing it all would be a fate worse than death.

So...

you can imagine my relief when I got a stay of execution yesterday.

God knows why,

but a Hollywood studio decided to exercise their option

on the steaming pile of shite that was my first novel.

How much?

1.8 million dolars.

I didn't bother working out what it was in sterling.

You see, the post mortem evidence is compelling.

The post mortem evidence says your wife was beaten to death,

didn't fall down the stairs.

So what happened?

Did you row?

Did you hit her and have to finish what you'd started?

Did you begin cleaning up the blood, but Christ, there was so much of it,

and all the time she's lying there, your wife,

the woman you loved,

so you gave up and dialled three nines.

I didn't try and clean up.

Our evidence says otherwise.

Our evidence says you went to the utility room

for paper towels and started wiping off the blood.

I am now showing Mr. Flannery a photograph of a clear,

circular area on a blood-stained wall.

Scenes of crime officers call that a void area.

It tells a story.

Your story.

That's it. Charge my client or release him.

Mr. Flannery, I'm now terminating this interview.

The time is...

17.55.

Excuse me.

- Hello, Howard? - Hello.

I was, er, looking for Dr. Alexander.

She's not here.

Can I help?

I hear she's working for the suspect.

Doing a second post mortem for them, yes.

I need her to corroborate something for me and

I'm worried she won't.

I photographed some bloody shoeprints using luminol at the scene.

You saw the prints, but the camera didn't?

Well, I was chatting to Dr. Alexander then somebody turned a light on.

You didn't just, er, check the screen after taking the picture?

She distracted me.

Kept going on about some WPC slipping in blood.

All right, well just re-photograph?

Look, the luminol diluted the blood.

My testimony won't be worth much,

it'll just look like I'm covering my back.

I get the feeling they're pinning a lot on the clean-up effort.

Hmm. You say Dr. Alexander definitely saw these prints?

- Yes. - She'll confirm it.

- You reckon? - Yeah.

No question.

One question.

If it does go to court,

will your expert testimony be useful for the defence?

Is that a no?

It's a "no, I'm not answering that question."

Come on!

Like you said, you have to show me yours and I don't have to show you mine.

Not very fair, is it?

- I'd say it was the essence of fair. - How so?

Innocent until proven guilty and all that.

Oh, um, at the house...

a SOCO found some bloody shoe prints leading to a sink.

- Yep. - You do remember that?

Yeah, why?

Because the photographs he took of the prints didn't come out,

it wasn't dark enough.

- Couldn't he rephotograph? - No, the luminol would have diluted the blood.

And he needs me to testify that I saw them?

And he was worried in case I decided to lie and say that I didn't?

I know. Crazy, isn't it?

Were you worried?

Put it this way,

if you didn't find cause of death to be deliberate blunt force trauma

then I would be worried.

All right.

I will testify that I saw the shoeprints.

But I will also testify that the scene was a bloody shambles complete

with a dog running around destroying all vestiges of evidential integrity.

Shall we talk about something else?

OK.

How did you come to be the person who broke the news to Flannery's daughter?

Because he asked me to.

Flannery asked you to?

Yes.

Night.

Hi.

If I wanted to compile a list of all the blunt force trauma deaths

in London over the past two years,

how would I go about that?

With no murder weapon, I was pinning a lot on that aborted clean-up.

You struck me as someone who'd insist on hearing bad news immediately.

I am.

Where's that from?

- The Godfather. - Right.

You've got my PM report, anyway.

Yeah, and they've got Nikki Alexander's.

Have you read it?

Flannery's lawyer strongly hinted it contradicts yours point for point.

What?

Look, I'm under some pressure here,

but I do not want to cut corners to get Flannery, understood?

Obviously.

So you're a 100% she was beaten to death?

Yes... Well...

But you can't rule out a fall absolutely?

- No. No-one can.- Then you're not 100%.

Fruits of the hand search.

Most promising candidate's gone for testing...

- But not that promising? - No.

Take his house apart.

Whatever he killed her with is still in there.

- Guv, we've already... - Brick by brick if you have to.

Hello.

You've got to be bloody kidding!

Smart idea, getting Nikki Alexander to do their path report.

- Makes a hell of a case. - Bullshit. There was blood everywhere.

- Practically screams reasonable doubt. - Bridget Flannery did not die falling down the stairs.

- Sorry. - No, let it all out.

It in no way enhances the belief the Met want Flannery to burn in Hell

and sod the whys and wherefores.

Hi, Andy, anything for me?

Just this post, ma'am.

We take aim at him,

we can't miss

and you don't even have a motive.

What d'you call a million in life assurance?

I call it less than his film deal and therefore irrelevant.

What a great advert for justice.

Pick a fight with its guardians and they don't just run for the hills,

they give you a get out of jail card first.

Actually, I haven't finished.

It seems like this case will be won or lost on the pathology.

Murder or accident, beating or fall. Agreed?

I propose you release him.

Then when the Coroner opens the inquest next week,

given the different views here,

rather than one formal cause of death being presented,

we'll ask both pathologists be heard.

So you're going to test the water? See which way the wind's blowing?

Take it or leave it. Or find the murder weapon.

OK, good news.

Going back over two years I can't find o

ne single case of blunt force trauma assault

where there was not evidence of skull fracture or at least skull damage.

Hi, yeah, can you get me some photographs of the Flannery house?

Home video's better, home videos of the interior of the Flannery house,

anything from the sitting room, the kitchen,

anything downstairs, whatever you can find.

Thanks.

If you hit a blood source hard with a heavy blunt object, you get spatter.

Simple as that. It's like...

stamping in a puddle, you're going to get splashed.

The smeared blood on the shirt is consistent with him hugging her.

And there was no spatter?

Which there would've been if her head had been struck hard

and repeatedly with a blunt object.

I'm going to have to take this.

Hello... Yes...

Oh, yes...

How do you feel about going up against your colleague at the Inquest?

- It's not a problem. - Really?

Well, it's certainly not your problem.

Is that thing about all your cells

changing every seven years true?

No, that myth's a myth I'm afraid.

It's a shame.

Always liked the idea.

A new you.

Well, if it was true, we'd all have the mental age of seven-year-olds.

So that's why we keep our scars?

The collagen fibre that's produced to repair skin damage,

it never totally matches the original dermis.

Shop soiled.

As soon as we're born...

we're dying.

So you tried to resuscitate her,

but then you hugged her?

Weren't you worried about her airways?

I knew if she wasn't dead,

she was dying.

I had to say goodbye.

Hello!

Flyke!

Good boy, good boy, Flyke.

Here we are, now it's Bridget and Anna getting ready to go for a run.

And here's Tom with his new toy!

They'll be running, all right.

Going straight to the organic shop on the Heath...

Let's have at look at your beer belly, your pot belly?

- So attractive. - What?

The camera's not wide enough for you, your big podgy belly.

Hello. Flyke!

Good boy, good boy, Flyke.

Bridget's sister's supposed to be coming over.

How do you get on with Muriel?

All right.

Not bad.

Took her about ten years to work out what

her sister was doing with a git like me, but...

then again, it's mystery to me.

All my reference points

meant nothing to Bridget and vice-versa.

I mean, she'd never heard of "The Buzzcocks", for Christ's sake!

She thought "The Fine Young Cannibals" had written Ever Fallen In Love.

So not that much of a mystery, then.

Opposites attract.

I suppose.

- Where did you meet? - Prague University.

She was doing a term there for her language degree.

The original Cambridge Bluestocking.

What were you doing out there?

My first wife, Anna's mum, was Czech.

She died of a brain haemorrhage.

I'm sorry.

Sorry about that.

Where were we?

Ten months ago at least...

the Flannerys owned this ashtray. Look at the date.

The shape and size are perfectly consistent

with the injuries on Bridget Flannery's head.

We didn't find anything like that.

No.

Evening. Just a few more things I need to...

- Certainly. - Thanks.

I was hoping for a last look at the blood.

- Great minds think alike. - Or not.

Why are you doing this?

I mean, what's the point?

- The point? - Of your stubborn refusal to accept the self-evident.

- Which is? - That this was a murder

and a brutal one at that.

I mean, how can someone get 28 injuries to their face,

neck, head, hands and wrist

by falling down the stairs, even if there were two falls?

It's counterintuitive, it's something that's made up,

it's a load of bullshit!

Flannery deserves the best defence available.

With no sign of a break-in, he'll need it.

Well, actually, the side door may have been unlocked.

These walls talk to us.

Bridget Flannery is screaming at us through these walls...

So where's the murder weapon?

And he didn't use the car there would have been transfer.

So he ran down the street!

With blood all over him?

Talking of blood, why wasn't there

one bit of spatter on his shirt?

He was covered in blood!

Smeared blood from where he cradled her body!

So he changed his shirt!

So now you have a murder weapon

and a shirt you can't account for!

Right, so,

Nikki against the world once more.

What do you mean by that?

You love this, don't you?

Here you come, the knight in shining armour.

Bloodied, but unbowed.

It's like a little Jane Eyre fantasy made flesh.

Hello?

Harry?

Muriel?

You shouldn't really be here.

I came from the Heath, I have a key.

This is still officially a crime scene.

I just wanted to...

This is my sister's blood.

My sister.

I think you should go home now, come on.

Come on.

Will you be OK?

There's no way it couldn't have been an accident, is there?

I believe the evidence points towards a fall.

Why? Are you having doubts?

About Tom?

I just...

I just don't see how it could happen twice.

This mask was on the wall by the staircase about five feet off the floor.

I didn't expect great quantities of blood because the wall around it was only flecked

so imagine my surprise when I applied the luminol.

A different blood source.

And lots of it?

Now, I ran the blood against the DNA samples

we'd collected from family members...

Yeah. Did you get a match, Howard?

A close match.

Anna's.

I'm thinking this has got to be her mother's or her sister's?

She doesn't have a sister.

- Where's Gemma? - She'll be back in a minute.

Did the police ask you about your first wife's death?

Briefly.

And you told them what you told me?

That she, er, died of a brain haemorrhage?

I have a Czech death certificate to prove it.

You just decided to miss out the part about her falling down the stairs.

OK, I was economical with the truth.

- You lied. - Well,

it's not like it's a level playing field.

You wanted me to tell Anna

in case she blurted out, "That's how my mother died,"

- to a police officer! - Not true.

Then prove me wrong.

And go to the police.

No. Do not drag my mother's death into this.

Anna, they'll find out anyway.

Anna, please, let me talk to your father alone.

They'll never believe this was a coincidence!

I'm not sure I do either.

What?

Are you jumping ship, Nikki?

Well, if that's the way that she feels, we don't want her.

We want her, all right?

We need you.

There's no-one else can fight our corner at the Inquest.

You know what you have to do.

The last time I was in this room

you asked me about the death of my first wife, Olga, in 1988.

I'd like to take this opportunity to

give you a fuller account, if that's OK.

It's very much OK.

When I found Olga...

she was lying at the bottom of the stairs.

Was she bleeding?

Yeah.

There was blood everywhere.

Page five for the full-colour spread.

I am surprised you stayed on

after the bombshell about wife number one.

Fortunately, Dr. Cunningham was standing next to me when I saw WPC Gould on the the drive.

He will corroborate my account.

I do not recall either one of them having blood on their clothes.

- Tell yourself whatever you want. - I am not a liar!

Do you believe me or not? It's important.

No, it isn't. It couldn't be less important.

Timing's just a little bit cynical, isn't it?

CPS are looking to the media on this one and Flannery's a media darling.

We're just evening the scales, Harry.

What happened to the dispersed spatter being

consistent with her falling, striking her head twice?

Or are you being paid by the word?

I would like to go to Prague

and see what I can dig up.

I think you know exactly what you want to dig up.

I don't know if he's innocent.

Of course you don't know. Detach yourself, and if you can't do that,

don't waste my time asking my advice.

It's like any profession

there are good embalmers and bad embalmers.

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