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C'mon. Mick knows I'm good for it.

It's more common than you think.
What is?

Falling in love with a prostitute.
Missy!

Barney told me your little friend
at the club has flown the coop.

My harlot Scarlet.

What's the legal position?
We're homeless again.

I'm going to law school.
I guess I should feel flattered.

Why are you getting chummy with
the one who's trying to bankrupt me?

Because I'm with you.
You should pay your taxes.

It's a hopeless case.
Only ones worth fighting for.

He's such a good man.

Night, Col. Night.

I can't do this anymore.

My name's Melissa Partridge. By the way.

Cleaver Greene.

200 bucks.

I'm in. Out.

Relax, Cleave.

You're amongst friends who want to help.

Isn't that right, Vanessa?

That's right, Mick.

Look, we're all aware
of how stressful debt can be.

And none of us enjoys
its ugly consequences.

None of us, Cleave.

So Mick and I decided it would be
better to sit down with you calmly,

and just map out a plan
that provides certainty.

So as you can see here,

Mick and I have decided to roll
the two debts into one.

And that's because of our long-standing

and close relationship with you.

My father loved you like a brother,
I know that.

We've agreed, and this is
exclusively for you,

on an interest rate of 29%
compounded weekly.

This 29% is, if you turn the page,

it's subject to
a confidentiality clause.

So don't tell anyone.

Otherwise it'll literally become
crippling interest.

You understand, Cleave?

You understand, Cleave? Yep.

Pretty much.

I told my shrink that I was thinking
of having an affair.

Always a good solution
to marital difficulties, Red.

Spread the pain.

What did she say?

Well, she said that it might make me
feel better in the short-term,

but that it'll come back to haunt
me, like Banque's ghost.

She'd be right for once.

So beat it, Red.

Come on, stand not upon the order
of your going, knucklehead,

just, you know, bugger off,

back to your husband and kids.

What'd you expect?
You've been together a long time.

It's going to change.

And how would you know? Hmm?

The longest relationship you've had
has been with a prostitute.

Oh, don't start swinging wildly,
sweetheart. This isn't about me.

For once!

So, you're full time at Chaser's,
are you, Marty?

Pretty much. Pretty much?

You know, other things come up.

Odd jobs. Life.

So that's it? It's over?

It's all done without Barney
even knowing it's been going on.

His life as he knows it, gone.

No right of reply. Fuck you, Cleaver.

If you think about it,
you've saved him a lot of bother.

I do understand your point,
'cause he's not that bright, is he?

And he's completely lacking when it
comes to insight and integrity.

I mean, he wouldn't be
able to contribute

to a worthwhile dialogue
about the marriage

you're meant to be sharing.

So it's better that you keep it
in your internal monologue, Red.

That way it'll be sorted out
to your satisfaction.

Red.

Yep?

Mate, it's me.

My brother's a doctor

and every time I'm called for jury
duty I get a medical certificate.

I didn't mind. It was fun.

Mm-hmm. What sort of case did you get?

Hit the jackpot. We got a murder.
Oh, really?

It was something about her voice
on the phone.

It just sounded so...

..alien.

I went round to her sister's place.
She said she'd left.

I'm not sure she'd even been there.

You must have read about
the model and the footy star?

Oh, wow!

Now what was her name?

Oh, don't tell me because
I read it in all the papers.

Um... Oh. Tanisha Marx.

Tanisha Marx and Gavin Warner.

It was pretty cool.

So she did it, yeah?

Yeah. Well, that was our verdict.

What do you mean?

I shouldn't be talking about it.

No, of course not.

So there's gotta be another guy, right?

No. No! Not necessarily at all.

Marriages go through phases, mate.

Yeah, we've been in a rut.

I acknowledge that.
I absolutely acknowledge that.

But, you know, not a day goes by still

where I don't thank God
for the miracle of her.

I mean, look at me. Look at her.

You'd never think in a million years
she'd choose me.

Go home, mate. Tell her exactly that.

Oh, God.

Oh, God. How did she do it again?

What? How did she do what?

Tanisha Marx.
How did she kill Gavin Warner?

You want to talk about this now?

Oh, I'm into crime.
It sort of turns me on.

She stabbed him,
dumped the body in the bush.

He was a big guy, wasn't he?

Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah, that was the thing. What thing?

Well, he was a big guy.

I mean, how did she even manage
to get the body in the car?

So you had a doubt?

A little.

Aren't you meant to acquit, then?

Well, I really shouldn't be telling
you this.

Come on, Red.

Home you go.

That is filthy, by the way.

Well, he was a big guy.

I mean, how did she even manage
to get the body in the car?

So you had doubt?

A little.

Aren't you meant to acquit, then?

Well, I really shouldn't be
telling you this.

Gav Warner's cousin.
Yeah, what about him?

Turns out he was a mate
of the head juror.

You're kidding me.
You are fucking kidding me!

She said Tanisha was a real bitch.

I have fought to prove
my daughter's innocence

from the day of Gavin's tragic death,

and this recording proves

that at least one member of the jury
had serious doubts

about Tanisha's guilt,

and that the jury foreman
had a connection to Gavin Warner

that he didn't disclose.

And my little girl had her 19th
birthday in prison last week.

Here you go. Here come the water works.

Because that man... I'm sorry.

The jury foreman bullied other jurors

into finding my daughter guilty.

What, so this is her
at her daughter's trial?

Yeah.

Oh! Shit! Wouldn't have recognised her.

Looks like she's lost about 20 pounds.

Just fuck off!

Had a complete makeover apparently,
boss.

Then went out hunting jurors.

Right, so, she loses 20 pounds,
has a complete makeover,

gives this idiot a blow job
and we're gonna send her to jail?

Bill! Bill! She was right!

Hey? The system failed
both her and her daughter.

But you're the Attorney General.
You can't say that.

I mean, you're responsible
for the system.

Right! My fault now, is it?
Fucking typical.

I'm responsible for a system
I can't control?

What moron came up with
the independent judiciary?

Well, the separation of powers
Shut up, Bill. Just shut up.

Two things need to happen.

One, Tanisha Marx
needs to get out of jail.

Two, Lucy Marx does not go to jail.

Well, you know that's down
to the courts, boss.

Yeah, I'm the fuckin' Attorney General.

Course I know it's down to
the courts! Idiot.

Having now had the opportunity

to investigate the matter
in greater detail, Your Honour,

it would appear the removalists
I hired were not responsible

for the destruction
of those financial records

the Tax Office has requested access to.

It would seem those documents
were already damaged

prior to the move.

But I am reliably informed
by the janitor

of my former storage facility,
a Mr Turgut Erzeren,

that a dormer window
was inadvertently left open

during the storm,

which caused flooding in the area
where my documents were housed.

Your Honour, my friend the respondent

has been granted every opportunity

to either produce the subpoenaed
records to the ATO

or provide a credible reason
for their disappearance.

At our last mention
it was the removalist's fault,

now it's the janitor's.

What will it be after that,
the dog ate them?

Your Honour, we have been
bogged down in procedural issues

for 18 months now.

We again respectfully submit

that Mr Greene be required
to produce the financial records

for the relevant period
or be found in contempt.

Mr Potter has a point, Mr Greene.

I think you've had
more than enough time.

Indeed. Your Honour has been
most indulgent.

But Mr Erzeren has only recently
returned to Sydney

after a six month holiday
visiting relatives in Turkey.

I don't see how I could have
expedited matters

in any meaningful way.

Mr Erzeren, could you tell me
what happened

on the afternoon
of the 23rd of September.

I go, for building, for clean.

Rain bucket dogs. Swish, swish.

Floor, shine good.

No worries for you. Swish, swish.

But window, ehhh...

Your Honour, this is getting us nowhere.

I agree, Your Honour.

I had hoped to save the court
the cost of a translator,

but it would seem to be necessary.

No, no, I beg you.

Let's keep going.

No, in fairness we are going to need
a Turkish translator.

Now I have leave starting shortly.

We'll reconvene,
three months hence on the 24th.

May it please the court.

Thank you, Your Honour.

See you at the doggies
on Friday night, Cleave?

Yeah, I'll try. Thanks, mate.

The evidence on which the appellant
seeks to rely

was gathered illegally,

and as such, we find it inadmissible.

This is a grave matter.

It is a cornerstone of our system
of criminal justice,

that jurors not be harassed
and/or threatened

before, during or after a trial.

It is the only way
we can maintain confidence

in the independence of the jury.

This is your idea of justice, is it?

Did you even bother
listening to the tape?

Mrs Marx! Did you?
Please restrain yourself.

If you want the public to maintain
confidence in the jury system,

then fucking do something to fix it!

Will the sheriffs
please assist Mrs Marx?

For God's sake!

The evidence was as plain
as the hairy ears on their heads.

But no, because of some legal
mumbo jumbo

my daughter remains in prison.

Now I am calling on
the State Attorney General

to immediately rectify
this gross miscarriage of justice.

I can't rectify it.
Don't have the power, love.

I'm calling on him to have
a Royal Commission into this.

My sainted aunt!

To expose the rotten state
of justice in New South Wales.

I have nothing else to say.

She's good.

She's sensational. She's Joan of Arc.

How do I look?

It's Section 68A of the Jury Act.

A person must not solicit
information from, or harass,

a juror, or former juror,

for the purpose of obtaining
information about da de da de da.

Maximum penalty, seven years.

Well, that's fine.

Sorry? Fine.

I'm more than happy to go to jail.

You want to be with your daughter.

That's not the only reason.

If you go to jail, there's going to
be a shit storm in the press.

That's what you're after, isn't it?

If I get off,
it'll be a story for five minutes.

If I go to jail, every day
there'll be more questions,

more pressure on my MP,
the Attorney General,

on the government.

Eventually, someone will have to
do something about Tanisha.

So I am instructing you to plead guilty.

That's not something
we hear every day, is it?

Lucy, I don't think
you should plead guilty.

If it's really a shit storm
you want, plead not guilty.

Make them prove their case.

You know what I mean?

Let the public see them pursue you.

Hound a grieving mother
until she's behind bars.

It won't be prosecution,
it'll be persecution.

But I will be found guilty?

Oh, in my capable hands,

I don't see how you could possibly
avoid a jail term.

She cannot go to jail.
It'll kill us in the process.

That is also the Premier's firm view.

Good. Can't you drop the charges?

She's publicly admitted
to a very serious offence.

The Director's adamant.
We have no choice but to prosecute.

Fine. Far be it for this office

to attempt to interfere
with the course of justice.

But is it not the Director
who selects Counsel, is it not?

So you want someone green?

Emerald, I think,
is what we're looking for.

Now, who's going to judge this thing?

Do we have a mother on the bench?
If not, let's appoint one.

It's rather liberating,
don't you think, Cock?

What?

Having a client who's guilty
for a very good reason.

And who wants to go to jail.

So even if we screw up,
we're doing the right thing.

I wish all my clients
were as guilty as she is.

Hey, shouldn't we get going?

No, Scarlet's meeting us here
at half past.

Cool.

How are things in the marital home?

Very cool.

Did she say where she was
the other night?

No, you were right.
She'd just gone for a drive.

If there is nothing else,
my servitude is over for the day.

Nicolette, you have, as always,
been just marvellous.

Bloody hell.

Is that a ring?

Mm-hmm.

Congratulations! When did this happen?

Three weeks ago.

Why didn't you say anything?

There's a sweep going round
on how long it'd take you to notice.

I had two months.
Who's the poor bastard?

Who do you think?

Bevan. Bevan?

Oh. Well. At last, an honest woman, eh?

Ah, how long have you two
been going out again?

Oh, 11 years.

11 years? Mmm.

He really is a bit slow
off the mark, isn't he?

He's had commitment issues.
I see. And you?

Knew the moment I met him I'd marry him.

Wait a minute.
Weren't you in school 11 years ago?

Mm-hmm.

So he was your first? Mm-hmm.

And only? Mm-hmm.

You've never been with anyone else?
Uh-uh.

Well, aren't you curious?

Cleave! What, about other men?

Well, yes, about other men.

There's a whole world
of other men out there.

Different shapes and colours, sizes.

And what about women?

What about them?

How do you know you're not a lesbian
if you've never been with a woman?

Believe me, I know. Not a lesbian.

Oh, you say that now.

But five years down the track
and you're sitting opposite Bevan

in some tortuously deafening
marital silence,

thinking about the opportunities
you gave up

because you decided to imprison
yourself with one man

who may not even be a good root

because we haven't slept with
anybody else.

I mean, I understand people
who settle for second best

as an informed choice
but you're not even doing that.

You're out there in some fantastical
Jane Austen bullshit haze.

Anyway, couldn't be happier.

A little chilly, isn't it?

Try not to pull a number
like you did last year, hey, mate?

It took Juliette 11.5 months
to forgive you.

Best behaviour, mate, promise.

He didn't even stop at the light.

He just sailed through.

I mean, it is a miracle
that no-one was hurt.

There are so many lunatics
on the road nowadays.

Correct.

So Blake, he insisted,
for his own peace of mind,

while I'm ferrying the children around -

I couldn't argue with that.

So he test drove the top four
and settled on the Porsche.

You know, and I don't care
what anyone says.

It is not self-indulgence

when you are keeping
your kids out of harm's way.

Correct.

Here she is.

Hello. Hi.

Barney. Scarlet. This is Melissa.

Hi. Good to meet you.

You look lovely. Thank you.

I know, it was a little bit cruel.

Hey!

Harry fucking Potter.

You're kidding me! Tell me it isn't so.

Oh, when did this happen?

He gave a tax seminar at law school
a couple of months ago.

A tax seminar? That's where
the magic happened, was it?

That's where you heard the violins
and felt the earth move?

In a tax seminar! Cleaver, please!

I've been bitching to you
for over a year about this guy.

It took me a while
to put two and two together

because you always referred
to him as Harry,

and he referred to you as the clown.

He refers to me as what?

He says it with a degree of affection.

Missy, the guy's trying to bankrupt me.

If our time together means anything...

For God's sake, get a grip! It's
nothing personal. He took a brief.

He's a prig.

He's talented, he's honest, he's loyal.

Exactly! There are any number
of reasons why he's wrong for you.

Jesus, Cleave. Would you give it a rest?

Have you told him yet?

Told him what?

About your previous life
as the other kind of solicitor?

I didn't think so.

Hi.

No.

We were there, remember that.

And your response?

So have you met Cleaver Greene before?

Why do you ask?

I just saw you two talking
when you were coming out of the loo

and it looked oddly intense.

Yes! Well, as it turns out,

Cleaver is an old friend
of a cousin of mine.

Angus. Family black sheep.

Right. Did you hear my mobile?

I don't think so.

No, for the thousandth time,
I'm not going to the Ivy tonight.

What is it with these people?

There's more to that point I
was making, so just let me say this.

Just be quiet while I say this
because this really irritates me,

and I've thought about it a lot, OK?

So what I want to say is, you've got
to keep the warring tribes apart.

You know, it's the wretched politics
that drive me nuts.

It's supposed to be a happy event.

Correct. That is absolutely correct.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry. Linda, isn't it? Leanne.

Leanne, yeah.
Sorry to interrupt, Leanne,

but I'm curious about something.

Oh, yes?

Yep. I've noticed you say the word
'correct' a lot.

Really? Yeah.

I hadn't noticed.

Yes, when somebody says something
that you agree with,

you don't say 'yes' or 'uh-ha'
or even, 'you go, girl'.

You say 'correct'.

I'm sorry, you've lost me, Cleaver.

Oh, well, it's sort of like a school
teacher talking to a 10-year-old.

You know, you're not actually
agreeing, you're approving.

It's as if the statement is invalid
until you deem it so.

Your point being?

Well, it's like
you're an arbiter of the truth.

It's a way of being smug
and superior, Leanne,

which is why so many fuckwits
in the city use it.

And now it's spread into
the mouths of the spouses

like some sort of contagion.

Your kids'll be saying it soon

from the backseat
of the four-wheel-drive Porsche,

feeling safe and smug and superior.

Buying a Porsche SUV
for the sake of the kids' safety.

I don't think I've heard such
transparently banal bullshit

in my entire life.

You go girl!

Ah, Harry-Sorry-David.

Interesting evening.

Just trying to keep the conversation
chugging along.

So, Melissa tells me
you're a friend of her cousin's?

Angus. Yes.

Yeah. Yes, old friends.

Old, old friends.

Oh, he's a piece of work, old Angus.
Dark horse.

Black sheep, she said.

I don't know if this racial
profiling of livestock's

getting us anywhere.

She tell you why he's such a dark sheep?

No.

They had a thing, he and Melissa.
Romantic thing.

Must have been, ah, 10 years ago.

She'd have barely been 17.

Yep. Something like that.

He would have been, oh, 38, 39.

Tell me, are they, ah, are they first...

First cousins, yeah.

Yeah, the shit hit the fan
when the family found out.

You can imagine.
Lasted the better part of a year.

You must know all this.

Bits. Yeah.

They ran off to Paris together.
All very tempestuous.

She left him, he tried to top himself,

she went back and he went off
to work for Bob Geldof.

All very messy.

It makes you think.

Sure does.

The poor darling. Some of the things
she's had to cope with.

Well, hello.

Mr Greene, how are you?

Battered, Ms Marx, but that's
a pretty common condition for me.

You live around here? Mmm.

Just up on Rockwall Crescent.

I have seen you around before.
Please sit down.

Pico, Mr Cleaver? Oh, thanks, mate.

Max!

Sorry for the state of my life.

So...

How's the Lucy Marx thing going?

She wants to go to jail.

She wants to be a martyr.

Well, nothing wrong with that
if the cause is right.

You know there's not a soul
at the DPP who worked on that case

who thinks Tanisha's innocent.

Yeah, well, that's because you guys
are the prosecution.

You have that dominant suspicion gene.

Oh!

Really? Mm.

Come on, even Dennis has his doubts
and he was her solicitor.

You want to have a chat with him.

You're up early.

Oh, don't be rude.

Like that. And then...

Ahhh!

Hey, just so you know, Cleaver told
me about you and Angus.

Oh, did he?

What exactly did he tell you
about me and Angus?

You two running off to Paris, him
trying to kill himself, Bob Geldof.

Oh, must have been around the time
your parents died.

How were they with it?

Oh, I mean, they were...

They were appalled.

But you did manage to patch things
up with them before they passed?

Yeah. They weren't the sort
to bear grudges.

Hey, you know you can tell me
anything, or nothing.

I'm just... I'm here, hmm?

You finish the coffee.
I'll get the paper.

Hey, Bruce.

How are ya, Dave? Good mate, good.

No rest for the wicked, eh?
Tell me about it.

Well, see ya. Crisis.

What? I blew it, and there's no milk.

Bugger!

Hey! David!

Oh, dear.

Yep. Yep, gotcha.

Thanks, mate.

They picked up your neighbour's brother.

Some sort of family feud.

How is he?

He was very lucky.
The shoulder's a flesh wound.

The other bullet
went through the abdomen.

No organs were damaged. He'll be fine.

Oh, thank God.

Dad?

Where is the bloody thing?
I had it out this morning.

Can't believe you haven't seen this.
Dad?

Ali and Foreman,
the Rumble In The Jungle.

It's human perfection.

I'm seeing someone, Dad.

So she's a girl from your school.

And, ah, you're doing the...

Mm-hmm.

And you're taking precautions? Yes.

OK.

She's in your class.

She's in my class, yeah.

OK, I don't see what
the bloody subterfuge is about.

The girl hasn't told her parents,
won't, can't,

and I know Mum'd insist we start
a constructive dialogue with them

and make sure we're all
on the same emotional page.

I don't know.

Dad, I'm really into her.

Could we come here?

There's nowhere else for us to go.
Oh, mate!

You don't want us paying
for some crappy room in the Cross.

Not when you've got a crappy room
in the Cross for free.

It'll only be after school.

Two afternoons a week, three max.

And you'll be at work anyway.
You won't even know we've been here.

Mate, I... listen, I might have my
own needs with that bed.

I might be in love myself

and I might not want it smelling
of teen spirit.

You're in love, too? Yes, could be.

Could very well be.

She's like a mixture of Mandela
and Ghandi and Mother Teresa

all rolled into one. Oh, yuck.

But hot.

Hot.

...in Sydney's
inner west this afternoon.

David Potter was shot twice after
his neighbour's brother opened fire

outside a Lilyfield home.

Ohh.

You're kidding me. You are kidding me.

So the first bullet hits him
and he doesn't even go down.

Then the guy's gun jams

and he keeps pointing it at David
and pulling the trigger

but nothing happens. Thank God for that.

If it'd been me I'd have bolted,
but David just charged him.

I couldn't believe my eyes!

Yes, I'll bet, yeah.

I've never seen courage like it, Cleave.

I mean, nothing in my life
has ever come close.

Well, that sort of behaviour's
instinctive, isn't it?

I beg your pardon?

Well, I mean, it's not a conscious
decision, is it?

It bloody well was.

He'd been shot.
He didn't know what he was doing.

I'd have done the same. You?

Do you remember the time the
fire alarm went off in the club?

You were hysterical.
I was handcuffed to the bed.

You can't even give him credit
when he gets shot twice

trying to save his neighbour's life!

Frankly, it doesn't sound like
he was in that much danger.

I mean, four shots off, no fatalities,

and nobody even on the critical list.

It's not exactly Mossad, is it?
You're impossible.

And thanks for the details
about me and Angus.

As if I was going to let that
go through to the keeper.

PHONE BEEPS Oh, shit.

Problem?

I was supposed to meet
Mother Teresa for a drink.

Go. I can amuse myself
until Mum gets back.

You sure?

What's wrong?

Oh, baby. Cleaver, what is it?

Oh, nothing.

Oh, this guy I know got shot.

Who?

Oh, not the hero lawyer guy.

Yeah, the hero lawyer guy.

Is he a friend of yours?

No, he's not a friend of mine and
he's not a fucking hero, alright?

He's a tax lawyer.

Now he's been shot everyone thinks
he's Jesus F. Bloody Kennedy!

He's not a hero. You're a hero.

Really? Yeah.

You're my hero. Really?

What? Oh, what the hell is that?

What? Oh, God.

Oh, that would be my son's.

Thought I could smell teenager.

I know, it's revolting, isn't it?

Anyway, we shouldn't let that
interrupt our conference.

Our conference?
Us doing it is a conference?

For billing purposes.

You don't want me doing
any real prep, do you?

We might stand a chance of winning.

So what can I do for you, Cleave?

Who's Katrina Ryan?

Ah, I remember hearing something
about her.

Is she against you and Marx?
Yeah, she is as a matter of fact.

You know, she's only two years
out of law school.

Is she? I heard she's a bit
of a young gun.

I hear she needs a bullet.

Nothing to do with me, mate.
It's the DPP's call.

I guess you guys just got lucky.

Any word on the judge?

Ah, yeah. Yeah. Jessica Mason.

Jess Mason? You're kidding me.

No. No, that's what I've been told.

Right.

Single mother with four daughters,

one of whom lost a leg
in that ferry disaster last year.

Yeah, yeah. That was a tragedy.
Joe, what's going on?

No idea what you're talking about.

I've got Julie Andrews for a judge

and Shirley Temple for the prosecution.

Cleave, mate, I told ya.
Nothing to do with me.

PHONE RINGS Oh, mate, I gotta go.

I'd wish you luck, Cleave,
but I'm not sure you need it.

The bastards are throwing it.
They want her to walk free.

I heard about Katrina Ryan.

Yeah, it gets better.
We're going to be before Jess Mason.

She's not going to send Lucy
to jail. She'll give her a medal.

I know. We've got to figure out
some way to piss her off.

Her and the jury.

That's never been a problem
for you before.

You want to have lunch?

No, I can't. Having lunch
with Dennis the Menace.

Why? He defended Tanisha.

He said he's happy to have
a quiet word. The more we know...

Well, it was bloody weird.

Here was their star fullback
stabbed to death,

and none of his team-mates
would talk about it.

Not even to the prosecution.

None of them had a clue, apparently.

Don't know anything, barely knew her,

Gav was a good bloke
but kept to himself.

They have anything to say about Tanisha?

No.

But I could tell she was not well liked.

Every time I mentioned her name,
the room got a little chillier.

Doesn't make her guilty.

Here she comes! Ms Marx! Ms Marx!

Um, yes, Your Honour.

What we... ah, what we have...

The case before Your Honour is one
of grave greatness... great gravity.

The relevant section is... sorry,

if Your Honour will bear with me. 68A.

Section 68A. Um, ah, here it is.

Your Honour, could I request
a brief adjournment

while I confer with my client?

Certainly, Mr Greene.

All rise.

Ms Ryan, may I have a word?

Oh, Mr Greene, hello.
Thank you, by the way.

That was very kind.
Well, what are learned friends for?

You seem a little flustered.

Is it noticeable?
Only to the highly trained eye.

It's my first big trial.

To be frank, I was rather surprised
when they briefed me.

I remember my first big trial.
I was throwing up all day.

So was I. I... still am, in fact.

Have you heard of beta blockers?

Um, I think so.

They take away that, ah,
performance anxiety.

Oh, really? Mm.

Look, I happen to have a couple on me.

That's so kind of you. Thank you.
Keep the pack.

Don't you need them? Probably not today.

Your Honour, as I was saying
before the recess,

offences under the Jury Act
represent a most grave threat

to our system of justice.

Jurors must feel safe and free
in their decision taking,

not just before, not just during
but also subsequent to their verdict

What the hell? She's good.

What can I say?

Women.

They're such flighty things,
aren't they?

Erratic, unpredictable.

Quick to respond to sudden impulses.

Laughing one minute,
crying bloody murder the next.

And not just when they have
their periods.

Mr Greene, may I ask
where this is leading?

Your Honour, my client is a woman.

We are aware of that fact, Mr Greene.

And she's not just a woman,
Your Honour. She's a mother.

Go on. Thank you.

A mother's greatest boast

is that she will go
to extraordinary lengths

to defend and protect her children.

Tanisha Marx was born
as a result of a one-night stand

that Lucy had in Auckland
some 19 years ago.

The father, to this day,
is blissfully ignorant of the fact

that he even has a daughter.

The fact that Lucy Marx
had a lot of sexual partners

when she was young has absolutely
no bearing on this case,

and you must disregard that fact.

You must also disregard the fact

that Ms Marx is still clearly
prepared to sleep with anyone

if that's what it takes for her
to pursue her quest for justice,

and vengeance,

however much that quest
may seem to conflict

with the so-called laws
that govern this state.

Thank you, Your Honour.

He didn't! He didn't.

That conniving bastard!

He's gone totally broken arrow
on us, boss.

Shitting shits!

Fuck's sake!

In all my years,
I have never seen such a display.

Such wilful negligence.

Your opening was more damaging to
your client's case than Ms Ryan's.

Well, I'm saddened Your Honour
feels that way.

It was a strategy devised in full
consultation with my client.

KNOCK ON DOOR Come!

Your Honour.

Have you sought further
instructions, Mr Meaher?

I have, Your Honour,
and Ms Marx is perfectly happy

with the way Mr Greene
is conducting this case.

Alright, you two, what's going on here?

Whatever do you mean, Your Honour?

I mean, I am this fucking close

to referring your conduct
to the Bar Association.

Were you aware of the existence
of the Jury Act

before contriving to meet
Mr Daniels at Chaser's?

I most certainly was. Oh!

Were you aware that seeking information

about a jury's deliberations,

even after a sentence
has been passed was a crime?

A crime subject to the maximum
of seven years in prison, yes.

Right.

Ah... ah... ah.

Well, ah, then... no further
questions, Your Honour.

Anything further, Mr Greene?

Nothing further. Thank you, Your Honour.

Are you sure of that?

Quite sure. Thank you, Your Honour.

- We'll resume in the morning.
- All rise.

Her Honour, a single mother, is
about to have your balls on a plate.

Short-term tactical necessity.
Long-term testicular catastrophe.

The Conduct Committee
made it clear last time

they didn't want to see you again.

Bunch of pussies.
Who could have you struck off.

We've got a client who's prepared
to go to jail on principle.

What sort of dipshit would I be to
worry about the Conduct Committee?

What about Mick and Vanessa's
repayment plan?

You really are Captain Buzzkill.
What if Tanisha's guilty?

Barnyard, I'm a big boy.
I know what I'm doing.

Michael Warner? Yeah?

You're Gavin Warner's cousin? Yep.

So you think Tanisha'll get out?

There's a chance.

There's a lot of political pressure.
It's an election year.

And she's pretty. The public always
forgives the pretty ones.

Look, mate, I just need to know
what happened.

So we can do the right thing.

We want to do the right thing.

Your name'll never be mentioned.

Is it true that you told the jury
foreman that Tanisha was a bitch

and she killed your cousin? Mmmm.

You had information?

But you didn't give it to the police.

I wanted to tell the cops
what really happened

but no-one'd back me up.

They said it'd be my word
against theirs,

and if it came down to it they'd say

I was the one she was rooting
out of school.

Who's they? His team-mates.

Tanisha was having an affair
with one of Gav's team-mates? No.

She was having an affair with his coach.

You know, he's married, Catholic,

father of six kids, eight premierships,

purer than pure super coach.

Clive Booth? Yeah.

Are you sure? Yeah.

Yeah, Gav told me.
He couldn't do anything about that.

Clive Booth was a god to him.
He's a god to everyone.

Alright, the night he died,

Gav rang me and told me he was
going to confront her about it.

And you think that Booth was there?

Not if the time of death's right.

He was giving a speech
halfway across town.

But I bet he helped get rid of the body.

When did Clive Booth die again?

About four months after Gav.

Heart attack, right? Yeah.

Come up.

Is Lucy upstairs?

Yeah, but she's cool.

Tanisha did it.

Oh, not this shit again.
Yeah, this shit again.

Barnyard, you can't possibly
know she did it.

Yeah, I can. I just spent two hours
with Gav Warner's cousin.

The cousin! He was part of
the problem in the first place.

Clive Booth was the problem, mate.

Tanisha was having an affair with him.

Gav found out
and threatened to go public.

It's the only way it makes sense,
Cleave.

Everything Dennis said, the DPP... No.

This is me talking, mate.
She's using you.

No.

What did he want?

Nothing important.

He's just having a few problems at home.

I didn't want to talk about the trial,

what happened in the jury room,
none of it.

She made me talk about it.
I feel violated.

Mr Daniels, what was Ms Marx doing

while you were having this conversation?

She was...

..going down on me.

I beg your pardon?

She was going down on me.

Going down on you.

By which you mean she was performing
oral sex on you.

Yes.

That's how she compelled you
to break your oath to the court?

Mr Daniels, you're 28 years old,
is that correct?

Yes.

Ms Marx is 38 years old. Do you
prefer the company of older women?

I don't know. She was nice looking.

I put it to you, Mr Daniels,

that it was you who was seeking
to take advantage that evening.

Advantage of a lonely, vulnerable woman.

No. I see.

How much did the 'Tele' pay you
for your story?

How much, Mr Daniels?

20 grand.

So you got a slap up meal,
oral sex and 20 grand

and still you feel violated?

Some people are very hard
to satisfy, Mr Daniels.

What was that?

You know, since when was attacking
Daniels part of the plan?

For a moment there it sounded like
you wanted to nail him.

Sorry. Old habits, you know.

I am not happy
about what happened in there.

You were a part of Tanisha's alibi,
weren't you?

Yes.

You told the trial
that on the night Gavin died

you had a phone call from Tanisha
and you chatted for a few moments.

You said she sounded fine. Yes.

Her phone records bore that out.
Why do you ask?

Because your phone records
also bear out the fact

that you made another call
after you hung up from Tanisha.

You called Clive Booth.

I'm presuming you told him
to go over to Tanisha's place

and help her dispose of the body.

You blackmailing him.

It's sort of your MO, isn't it?

Signature dish.

I did what any mother would do.

Not my Mum.

I can't represent you anymore, Lucy.

I was only prepared to put you
in jail when you weren't guilty.

That is going to have consequences.

Everything does.

I really liked her.

It was weird.
She reminded me of you somehow.

How did that make you feel?

Strangely comforted.

I had this fantasy
about coming around here

one time with Lucy and...

And what, we'd end up jelly wrestling?

I hadn't thought of that
but now you mention it.

So, did she displace
your feelings for Melissa?

What does that matter?
Answer the question.

Oh, come on, darling. You know me.

My feelings never get displaced.
They just get added to.

I still love everyone I've ever loved.

You, Missy,

Miss Harbright, my fourth grade teacher.

And?

After Judge Jessica Mason
ruled a mistrial,

she referred Lucy Marx's counsel,
Cleaver Greene,

to the Professional Conduct
Committee of the Bar Council.

It's the Bar Association.

It has sent shockwaves
through Sydney's legal community.

Cleaver Greene was not only
negligent at my trial.

Oh, hello.

At possibly the most vulnerable time
of my life,

he seduced me and for most
of the last week before my trial

we were having sexual intercourse.

Oh, yes!

He did almost no work.
He even bragged about it.

We shouldn't let that
interrupt our conference.

Our conference?
Us doing it is a conference?

For billing purposes.

You don't want me doing
any real prep, do you?

We might stand a chance of winning.

I heard the news.

Are you OK?

Closed Captions by CSI