All language subtitles for The Fall (2013) S03E06 Their Solitary Way (Series finale).en

I'd worked that day,
in a Caribbean restaurant.

It was a warm day.
There was thundery rain.

David and I went out after work,
went out drinking.

Went to a local club.
I can't recall the name.

We met Susan Harper there.

She invited us to her house.
I think she shared a house,

but there was no one there.

- We went up to her room.
- The three of you?

Yes.

What happened?

She and David had sex.

And you?

I watched.

What sort of sex?

Ordinary sex.

What happened then?

David left.

He went out to find more drink...

Left us together.

Go on.

We, um...

I invited her
to try something a bit different.

What?

A sex game.

What happened was an accident.

A consensual game?

Yes.

Then how did this David Alvarez individual
come to be found guilty

if he wasn't even there?

And why murder?
Why not manslaughter?

It's complicated.

Did David Alvarez
find somewhere to sell him drink?

Don't know.
Never came back.

Could I please have some water?

Have you, um...

remembered more
in regard to the other charges?

No.

It'll look bad
if you stop answering now.

Just be careful what you say.

So, at that point,
you were left alone with Susan Harper?

Yes.

What happened then?

I suggested that she try something,
uh, a bit more exciting

than the sex
that she'd had with David.

What?

I'd been experimenting.

With?

Exhibit 132.

I've never seen these before.

-You admit it's you?
- He admits no such thing.

Experimenting like that,
with sexual asphyxiation,

is that the sort of behavior
you involved Susan Harper in?

I advise you
not to answer that question.

Yes.

How?

Specifically.

Her head in a plastic bag.

Tied off at the neck?

No, just a thin plastic bag.

Did you tie her hands?

No, her hands were free.

Was it your suggestion
to use the bag?

-Yes.
- Why?

The same reasons
as in these pictures.

To feel in control,
to feel out of control,

to feel powerful...

to feel weak, to be fearful...

- to be trusted.
- Were you supposed to remove it?

She was.

At the peak of orgasm,
tear off the bag...

It floods the brain
with oxygen-laden blood,

leads to a feeling of euphoria.

Or death.

- Sadly, yes.
- Sadly?

Did she understand the risks
involved with such behavior?

- I think so.
- Did you explain it?

I don't remember.

Why didn't you
remove the bag for her

if she lost consciousness?
Could you not see she was suffocating?

I wasn't looking at her.

I was going down on her.

We'd been drinking, taking coke.
Maybe that's why she died.

And yet David Alvarez,
who wasn't even there at the time...

is serving a life sentence
for the murder.

His choice.

Why? Why would he make that choice,
do you think?

Don't know.
You'll have to ask him.

So what did you do
when you realized what had happened?

Did you call for an ambulance?
Did you call the police?

- No.
- Why not?

- It didn't occur to me.
- What did you do?

Cleaned up.

Does that account for the presence
of a washing up bowl by the bed?

Yes.

I fetched the water
and washed her.

Emptied it into the bath.

I was meant to bring it
back to the kitchen.

Must have forgot.

What color bowl?

Green, I think.

So, you just left her there,
in her room, on her bed?

- Yes.
- What did you do then?

- I walked the streets.
- And after that?

Left London.
I came back to Belfast.

- And that's when you became Paul Spector?
- Yes.

Did you have any communication
with David Alvarez?

- No.
- At no point?

No.

I ask you again.

Why would he take the blame,
do you think?

He must have felt
he was doing the right thing, I suppose.

But why would he think...

taking the blame
was the right thing to do?

You tell me.

He said he felt in your debt.

She speaks.

He said he felt
he owed you a great deal

because you protected him
as a child.

Did I?

You told me...

that Father Jensen
didn't abuse you at Gortnacul.

You said that you made yourself repulsive
so that he wouldn't touch you.

I don't remember that.

I don't recall talking to you before.

But every boy there
was abused in some way.

No one escaped.

In fact...

some boys were singled out
for special treatment.

And you...

were one of Father Jensen's favorites.

He even had a pet name for you.

He called you "Pretty Boy."

He chose you to be his favorite
for a whole year.

When it came time
for you to choose your successor...

you looked right past David Alvarez.

You chose another boy.

And for that,
he was eternally grateful.

Or at least, until it became clear

that the friend that he was protecting
from an unfortunate fatal accident...

was actually a friend
who was, at that time,

at the beginning of a career
as a serial murderer.

Drop the charade, Peter.

Own your confession.

Have the courage of your convictions

and admit that you remember it all.

You remember everything.

I'm sorry,

but you are intentionally
prejudicing my client's case.

I will want this removed
from the transcripts.

Were you not worried
that the police would come after you?

Come after Peter Baldwin, do you mean?

Of no fixed abode somewhere in London?

No, I wasn't.

A year later,
I was Paul Spector, living in Belfast,

soon to become
a married man with a child.

Truth be told, I didn't give Alvarez
and Susan Harper much thought.

You know...

I've been told a lot about Paul Spector
since I was shot.

At first, I was horrified.

But then I must admit...

little by little...

he's started to intrigue me--

Paul, please stick to the facts
surrounding the death of Susan Harper...

and avoid speculating
about things you can't remember.

Speculation intrigues me.

I'm told that
I laid out Sarah Kay's underwear

on her bed,
in the shape of her body.

That's what I used to do as a child.

Lay out my...
mother's clothes on her bed,

in her shape,
imagine she was there.

It aroused me.

Then, when I was a wee bit older,
12, 13...

whenever I could,
I would obtain female underwear.

I'd use it to masturbate.

Is that perverse?

Was that the start of something
that led me here?

Or was it earlier?

Gortnacul?

Or earlier still,
my mother's death?

I want to know.

I want to know the real me.

Then stop hiding
behind the mask of amnesia.

We're all wearing masks to some extent.

You certainly are.

There are memories...

Thoughts that...
feel like memories...

that are starting
to come back to me.

This interview has strayed
way beyond its stated purpose.

And there's a voice.

There's a voice saying,
"We're losing him, we're losing him."

So...

there must have been at least one person
who cared whether I lived or died.

That was me.

That was my voice.

And I did care.

I thought death
would be too easy for you.

Too easy an escape.

And I didn't want you
to cheat the system.

And I still don't.

I want you to be punished
for the crimes that you've committed.

Rose Stagg was so right about you.

She saw right through you...

your... infantile desire

to have a captive
and captivated audience.

You just want to be noticed.

Just want to be
the center of attention...

to have special treatment...

to make your mark.

But it's all just a performance.

All of it.

You perform for me...
for your solicitor...

your doctors, your nurse,

your psychiatrist,
even your family.

It's all just...

one big performance...

as protection...

against the dreaded
black hole of your heart.

Well, guess what, Paul.

It's time to grow up.

It's time to take responsibility
for what you've done.

Let's stop this pathetic charade.

I really must insist
on a break now.

I need time with my client
to prepare a written statement

about the death of Susan Harper
that he will read.

Interview is being suspended at 15:47,

so that Paul Spector
can consult with his solicitor.

Fetch the detention officer.

Murderer!

Murderer!

Get your hands off me!
Get your hands off me!

Don't touch me!
Do you hear me?

Don't you put your hands on me!

Have you been drinking?

You, escort Mr. Healy out of here.

You, where's that
fucking ambulance?

It's all right.

It's all right.
It's all right.

Drive.

Drive!

I'm shakin'.

- How much did you see?
- Uh, my monitor went dead.

The attack on Gibson--

Yeah, it didn't stop there.

What a way
for the whole thing to end.

End?
What do you mean?

Well, we can't
possibly represent him now.

Why not?

I've never seen violence
like that before in my life.

What have we just witnessed?
The very thing you described.

Their deep obsession with each other.
The emergence under duress of "Bad Paul."

If Larson doesn't find evidence
of dissociative disorder,

a split personality,
then we will find a psychiatrist who does.

Then we play the
"not guilty by reason of insanity" card

or even, if necessary,
"guilty, but insane."

I can't, Sean.

I can't be in the same room
with him again.

I get it. You admire her.
You want to be her when you grow up.

The fact remains,
if you can't make the accused your focus,

then you shouldn't be
a defense lawyer.

Probably not a criminal lawyer at all.

Fine.

- What?
- You're on your own.

Open your mouth for me.

Bring your teeth together.

- Painful?
- Mmm, no, no.

No crunching noises?
Any problems with vision?

No.

I think you have a minimally displaced
zygoma fracture.

You're gonna be on a soft diet
for two weeks or so.

Though the bleeding's impressive,

the laceration's small,
might require a stitch or two.

Irrigate the wound with lots of
normal saline and I'll take a look.

If you'd like to lie back
on the bed for me, please?

- Any pain?
- Mmm, some.

Shall I check
for blood in the urine?

Yes, please.

I'd like to keep you in overnight
for observation.

No, that won't be necessary.

Don't worry,
it'll just be bed and breakfast.

I'll be back to stitch that eyebrow.

Thought I'd look in on you
before I go.

What time is it?

Just after 2:00.

This is my ninth straight night in a row.
I've been on for 17 hours.

I'm getting too old for this.

Bet you're glad I saved his life.

How's Tom Anderson?

His arm's broken.

He's undergone a closed reduction
to pull the bones back into position.

- Oh, Jesus.
- He's been sent home

with his arm in a cast.

You know, given that...

you're less likely to develop
post-traumatic stress disorder

if you don't sleep
after a bad experience,

maybe I should...

keep you awake
a wee bit longer, at least.

Don't you have a home to go to?

I do.
A wife and five kids as it happens.

From a daughter of 12
to a son of seven months.

If I go home now...

it'll be nappy changes
and the four o'clock feed.

Might as well
sit with you for a bit.

I'll ask you questions.

Really?

Aye.

Go on.

Do you like flowers?

Of course.

Can you play
any musical instrument?

I could play the violin
when I was a girl.

Have you ever been happy?

If so, when?

When I was a child...

before my father died.

Have you any real friends?

A few. Yeah.

You ever wished anyone dead?

Yes, I have.

Are you a good swimmer?

Very.

Are men or women the stronger,
do you think?

- What do you think?
- Oh, women, without a doubt.

In fact, it's time you hurried up
and took over.

I mean, it's gonna happen,
so why not get on with it?

- Which is your favorite season?
- Hmm...

Spring.

Has Mr. Spector been a threat
to himself or others in the past week?

There have been
no more breaches of protocol

since he's been back.

Anything more
from the test results?

Have you found
any compelling inconsistencies?

No, I haven't...

which is unsurprising,
given his professional knowledge.

I know it's in your nature

to infer invisible unconscious processes
behind the memory loss

and that it is an exceptional doctor
who... will take the risk

of concluding in writing
that someone is malingering,

but...
with respect...

that is what I think you should do.

Do you?

The CT head scan
with and without contrast was normal.

The MRI of the brain and the spinal cord
showed normal results.

There's no evidence
of structural brain damage

in the neurological examinations
or neuroimaging.

With his history of lying
and everything that he stands to gain

from exaggeration
and fabrication of the symptoms,

the amnesia has to be malingered.

He's proved how dangerous he is.

It has to be fake.

It's not me.

What?

I look at my body and it's not me.

It'll take a while to get used to,
that's all.

- Take this.
- Thank you, sir.

We've had a report, ma'am,
from the Juvenile Offenders Center.

It seems that Katie Benedetto
has been self-harming.

How?

Cutting herself
with a piece of bone.

What?

They think she must have found it
in her food at some point.

Jesus.

Is there a happy memory

from any part of your life
that you can remember?

I used to think that
there was a black hole inside me...

that nothing could fill.

Then I had a daughter.

I remember the first time
that I put her to sleep.

I was standin',
holdin' her in my arms...

rockin' her.

I was looking at her all the time.
She was looking up at me.

I began to feel
that she trusted me...

that she felt safe.

She must have done
because her eyelids started closing...

little by little...

and then she was asleep.

That's a good memory.

Why did you attack Stella Gibson?

Why did you break
that young man's arm?

There is a visible
and an invisible world.

That's why people get hurt.

Do you think I'm treatable?

Of course.

Curable?

Hmm... that's different.

What would you do for me
if I was your patient?

Try to get you to pay attention wisely
to things as they are.

Foster clear thinking
and open-heartedness.

Try to develop the capacity in you

to experience a feeling
without necessarily acting on it.

Try to enable you to see the difference
between thoughts and reality.

I'd imagine you're a good father.

Well, what do you mean
by "good father"?

Someone who's present...

there for his children.

Has anyone ever told you,

you sometimes have bad dreams
that you can't remember?

Has your mummy or your daddy
ever told you that?

Yes, my mummy took me
to the doctor's one time.

Have you had any bad dreams

since you've been staying
with Joan and Stephen?

I don't think so.

She hasn't.
She's been sleeping well.

Daddy said he had bad dreams like mine
when he was in the children's home.

Did he?

Did he say
what he dreamed about?

Frightening things.

How do you feel about
your daddy right now, Olivia?

I love him...

But?

I don't think I'll go see him
for a while.

How long do you think
before you'll see him again?

When I'm grown up, I might.
Or if I have a baby.

If I have a baby,
I might go take her to see him.

What happened to your face?

I was in a car accident.

No, I wasn't.

Paul Spector attacked me.

I've got marks like that.

Show me.

I can't.

Why?

They're on my upper thighs
and on the soles of my feet.

I didn't want anyone to know,
to see them.

They were private.

Why did you do it?

I think for the same reason you do.

What's that?

Anger.

What did you have
to be angry about?

My father.

Why?

He died.

How?

He was ill.

How old were you?

Fourteen.

My father killed himself.

I thought it was an accident.

He chose to ride a motor bike.

Even though I worried about him
every time he went out...

every night he was late home.

He loved the bike
more than he loved me.

Loved the thrill of speed
more than he loved his only daughter.

I don't call that an accident.

Is that why
you're throwing your life away?

You know you can't get him back...

no matter how hard you try.

"There was a man of double deed

Who sowed his garden full of seed

But when the seed began to grow

'Twas like a garden full of snow

When the snow began to melt

'Twas like a ship without a belt

When the ship began to sail

'Twas like a bird without a tail

When the bird began to fly

'Twas like an eagle in the sky

And when the sky began to roar

'Twas like a lion at my door

When my door began to crack

'Twas like a stick across my back

And when my back began to smart

'Twas like a penknife in my heart

And when my heart began to bleed

'Twas death, and death

And death indeed"

I need you to do me a favor.

I know
that everything feels tainted...

polluted...

but it's not.

We all have those voices
in our heads

that tell us we're a disappointment,

that tell us our work is insignificant...

that it's not good enough,
it takes too long, it's too hard.

But when times are tough...

we need tough dreams.

But real dreams, not lies.

Not an unreality like Paul.

You need to fight for yourself, Katie.

Because right now...

you're in danger.

- What's this?
- It's your chocolate.

I don't want that chocolate.
I want what he's got.

Mark, you're diabetic.
That's your special chocolate.

I don't like special chocolate.

I want what he's got.

That stuff tastes like dog chocolate.
I'm not eating dog chocolate.

- I'm afraid it's this or nothing.
- Give me my money back, then.

I've spent your money
on the things you asked for.

I want my money back!

Mark, calm yourself.

I'm not a dog.
I'm not eating that shit. I refuse!

Calm down, Mark,
or you'll be restrained.

What did you say to me?
You call me a homosexual?

- I didn't call you anything!
- Called me a homosexual!

Mark, calm down, now.

We all need love
and we all need nurture.

There's too much death
and destruction.

But friends who love you should...

warm you like the sun.

Make you feel good
about yourself...

not freeze you in their contempt
and in their hate.

Anger corrodes our belief
that anything good can happen to us.

Paul's been destroyed
by his anger...

his rage.

And you...

you hurt a friend...

to impress him.

But he doesn't care.

He doesn't even know you exist.

Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go.

His head. Watch his head.
Watch his head!

Let's go, let's go!

Go, go, go! Door, door, door!

Fuck off!

That's right,
fuck the lot of you!

Fuck off!

You and I were loved so much...

even if our fathers
couldn't stay around for us.

Maybe we both need
to be held while we grieve...

but it has to be someone
who can feel pain for our pain...

not revel in it.

Not someone who will abandon us.

Oh, sweet Jesus.
Call... Somebody call for an ambulance!

Call an ambulance!
Where's Spector?

Where's Spector?

Check the treatment room,
the de-escalation room!

Check the kitchen!

Shit!

Bailey's room!

Oh, God.

Get him down.

Quick. Mind his head.
Mind his head. Mind his head.

Get the belt. Get the belt.

Paul. Paul.

I'm sorry.

Gibson.

Okay.

What is it?

- I have to go.
- What's happened?

I can't tell you, I'm sorry.

Is it Paul?

Bye, Katie.

Oh, God. Dr. Larson...

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Paul Spector, the man charged with
four recent murders in the Belfast area,

was found dead last night in one of
the bedrooms of the Foyle Clinic,

where he was undergoing
psychiatric assessment.

This morning, an inquiry was launched
into how he had come to die

whilst under level two
observation by clinic staff.

Spector, 32,
was found dead at 9:31 p.m.

While efforts were made to revive him...

...he was certified dead
by doctors at 9:51 p.m.

The Foyle Clinic's leading clinician
was also injured during the incident.

He is in hospital
and in a stable condition.

His injuries are not thought
to be life-threatening.

Another patient,
Mark Bailey, 29, was killed.

His family have been informed.

An inquiry into his death is ongoing.

I can confirm that the PSNI
are not looking for anyone else

in connection with the murders
of Fiona Gallagher, Sarah Kay,

Alice Parker Monroe
or Joseph Brawley.

An inquest will take place
into each of those deaths.

DCI Eastwood will oversee
the preparation of those inquest files.

In light of recent events,
and as of today...

I am standing down
from my position

as Gold Commander
of Operation Musicman.

In addition, the chief constable
has accepted my resignation.

I would like
to take this opportunity

to thank Detective Superintendent Gibson
for all her hard work,

her dedication to duty,

and her leadership
during the investigation.

Thank you.

I'm sorry, sir.

Take care, Dani.

And you, ma'am.

"In olden times,
when wishing still did some good,

there lived a king,
whose daughters were all beautiful.

But the youngest was so beautiful

that the sun itself,
who indeed, has seen so much,

marveled every time
it shone upon her face.

In the vicinity of the king's castle,
there was a large, dark forest.

And in this forest,
beneath an old linden tree,

there was a well.

In the heat of the day,
the princess would go out into the forest

and sit on the edge
of the cool well.

To pass the time,
she would take a golden ball,

throw it into the air
and then catch it.

It was her favorite plaything."

Thank you.

Thank you, ma'am.
Take care.

"As she was lying in bed,

he came creeping up to her
and said,

'I'm tired and I want to sleep
as well as you do.

Pick me up or I'll tell your father.'

With that,
she became bitterly angry

and threw him against the wall
with all her might.

'Now you will have your peace,
you disgusting frog!'"

She's supposed to kiss him,
not throw him against the wall.

That's Disney.

This is the real story.

"But when he fell down...

he was not a frog...

but a prince...

with beautiful and friendly eyes."