All language subtitles for New Tricks S05E08 Mad Dogs.DVDRip.NonHI.en.ACORN

Crap! Absolute crap!

They're a bloody disgrace.

3-0 to that shower?

What a load of complete,
five-star, total bloody rubbish!

Dad, it was a friendly.

There's no such thing.
We should never have lost.

Never in a million years.

Against Spurs?

We're nonleague. They're
10 divisions above us.

What do you want to drink?

Nothing. I'll just eat
me bloody orange.

Mark.

Shit.

Mark Lane.

♪ Marky Park Lane,
Marky Park Lane ♪

♪ Marky Park Lane, Tottenham ♪

Andy Merrill from school.
You remember me?

Yeah, is this your old man?

I am his father, yes.

Andy Merrill.

Ex-Tilworth Comp. Ex-1st
Battalion King's Guards.

♪ Tottenham till I die ♪

♪ I'm Tottenham till I die ♪

♪ I know, I am, I'm sure I
am, I'm Tottenham till I die ♪

Come on, you Spurs.

Yeah, what you looking at?!

Yeah?

Sorry about that. My...
My brain's buggered.

That why you're a
Spurs supporter?

Oh, he's a geezer, your old
man innit he? He's a geezer.

You ever been in the army?

- Police.
- Retired.

Yeah, me too.

Army.

Army, mate!

If you haven't got what it
takes, it takes what you got!

Can you do that?

No.

Nor me.

Spurs supporter.

♪ It's all right, it's okay ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter
if you're old and gray ♪

♪ It's all right, I
say it's okay ♪

♪ Listen to what I say ♪

♪ It's all right, doing fine ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine ♪

♪ It's all right, I
say it's okay ♪

♪ We're getting to
the end of the day ♪

Subtitling made
possible by Acorn Media

- You okay?
- Yeah.

Thanks.

Sorry about that.

Not supposed to drink,
but... you got to, haven't you?

How long have you been on these?

- Ever since Iraq.
- You just fought in Iraq?

No.

The first lot. 1991.

My best mate was
killed just before I went.

Eric Trimble.

We were like brothers.

So we're 12 months in,
we volunteered for the IRU.

- IR what?
- The IRU.

It's the Influenza
Research Unit.

It was two weeks of
getting a dose of the sniffs.

Extra pay, a
week's leave on top.

It was sweet.

In the end, me, Eric and
the other two boys there,

we bunked off for a
night out on the piss.

I mean, we weren't
supposed to, but...

Then what happened?

Eric never came back.

They found him.

Some...

bastard had
battered the crap out.

Police never got anywhere.

Before we know it,
shit hits the Kuwaiti fan,

we're all giving it left-right,
left-right in the desert.

No leave. No counseling.
No... No... No nothing.

Instead, I-I get to...

I get to stare at a load of dead
Iraqis with their faces on fire.

And... And me... me,
I'm laughing. Yeah?

I'm... I'm... I'm
laughing mine off.

Honorable discharge.

A few hundred quid.

16 years with my head in a vise.

Uh...

Uh...

Come.

And, uh, just to top it all
off, since this second lot,

I've even started
seeing him again.

Eric, see?

And, uh, he keeps talking to me.

He's asking me,
"What you gonna do?

What you gonna do for
your old mate, you bastard?"

Good morning.

Sandra, this is Mr. Hamilton.

He's from the MoD.

Go ahead.

At 8:43 a.m. somebody
from this office

attempted to gain
access to a secure site

within the Ministry of Defence
without official authorization.

Any takers?

Oh, that must have been me.

But I had no idea the
information was classified.

I was just...

Thank you, Mr. Hamilton.
I'll deal with this.

I can promise you there will
be no repetition of this incident.

What the hell do you
think you were doing?

Have you any idea how
potentially damaging this is?

The MoD?! Are you insane?!

What is this case anyway?

Eric Trimble.

He was beaten to death in 1991.

It's on record.

I was just having
trouble locating the file.

Trimble being a soldier, I
thought I'd try army records.

- Army?
- Sir.

This happened before
the first Gulf War.

- So it should be on file.
- Yeah, somewhere. Sir.

Well, in that case, keep going.

I'm not having some
spook waltz in here,

telling us what we
can and cannot do

about a legitimate case.

You, um... You let me
know how you get on.

Is he on drugs?

It was when you said the magic
word "army." What's up with him?

Strickland was
sponsored through college.

But not by the Met. By the army.

When he graduated, he
should have gone to Sandhurst.

- Why didn't he?
- I don't know.

He was probably crap.

How do you know all this?

I always like to know about
the people I'm working with.

Hmm. For.

Got it!

Come on!

The four soldiers at the IRU.

And they were the only
ones there at the time, right?

They were last seen
drinking in the Rising Star pub

on the evening of
January 20, 1991.

Now, the landlord reckons

that they all left
together around 10:00.

Andy Merrill, Keith Sharratt,
and Ronnie Glazebrook

were discovered back in their
beds at 7:00 the next morning.

But Trimble...

- Trimble was black.
- Nothing escapes you, does it?

No, no, no, no.

Andy Merrill told you
everything he could remember

about the best mate he ever had,

apart from the fact
that he was black.

Well, this is 1991.

A black soldier is murdered.

You're talking about
racism, bullying.

Yeah, no wonder the
secret squirrels got nervous.

Anyway...

A search was organized,

and Trimble's body was
discovered in Hopkins Wood

at 3:00 p.m.

The police were
informed around 3:30.

And Andy Merrill,
Keith Sharratt,

and Ronnie Glazebrook
were questioned under caution

at 5:00 in the evening.

- What did they say?
- Next to nothing.

They were all still in shock.
Could hardly remember a thing.

Are you saying
these three squaddies

got away with saying they
couldn't remember anything?

- They'd all been drinking.
- No, come on, Brian.

I mean, a group of you can
get totally pissed together,

but you don't suffer
collective memory loss.

Well, forensics
couldn't find anything

linking them to the body
or the murder scene.

They checked their
clothing. Nothing.

What about this IRU?

Well, it closed down in 2001.

Although the
building's still there.

Dead man's family?

They were living in
Hammersmith. Mum, dad, sister.

Okay, Brian. We'll
start with them.

You two try and track
down those other squaddies.

Right.

So why you want
to drag it up now?

After all this time?

Eric is dead.

We want to try and find out
who killed your son, Mrs. Trimble.

Really? Now?

When the Lord has
finally helped me

to come to terms with my loss,

now you want to stir up
my heart all over again?

We do realize how
difficult this must be.

Especially with the added pain

of not knowing who was
responsible for Eric's death.

But that's perhaps the
most important reason

for us doing what we do.

To try and put an
end to not knowing.

Only God can take away the pain.

Mum.

How long will it take?

Oh, we don't know.

Mrs. Trimble, can I ask
you... What was Eric like?

Oh, he was a lovely boy.

Kind, generous, gentle.

And you can't think of anyone

who might have
wanted to hurt him?

No. Everyone liked him.

Do you remember the
last time you saw him?

Yes.

I was with Arthur, my husband.

It was about a month...

before Eric died.

Thank you.

Look, I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to upset your mother.

It's just that the
photo... It's of our dad.

He died only four months later.

Moment he heard
about Eric, he just broke.

Wouldn't eat, drink. Nothing.

Mum never got over it.

It's okay. We understand.

Oh, sorry, I picked this up.

Keep it.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Come on. Let's go
pick the others up.

Well, the good news is

that Keith Sharratt's
still in the army.

Same regiment, even.

Although he's a
sergeant major now.

In a barracks in Hounslow.

Ronnie Glazebrook,
on the other hand,

left the army in '92
and now lives in Penge.

Ah. Pull over.

Is this it?

Well, where's the IRU?

Well, according to the map...

There.

Why are they wearing
protective clothing?

Oi!

What do you think you're doing?

Just admiring the
speed and efficiency

with which you
carry out your work.

Good. Now bugger off.

Bugger off... ma'am.

Oi!

Come, gentlemen. Let us away.

Well, he had a face
you'd never tire of kicking.

Brian checks on a
dead black soldier.

We get a visit from MI5.

And the last place he
was at before he died

is suddenly being demolished.

And why bother cleaning
up if it was only the flu?

Using men in space suits.

One of whom calls me ma'am.

Well, he's a spook, isn't he?

Why don't we have a
look at the crime scene?

Here we are. Hopkins Wood.

Yeah, well, I'll
stay in the car.

- You still afraid of trees?
- You still afraid of cookers?

All right. Jack
and me will do it.

You two go find
the Rising Star pub.

And make sure he doesn't drink.

- Well, how we gonna get there?
- Try walking.

Well, it's here somewhere.

Ah. 17 years is a lot of wood.

Look. Fully clothed.

Battered about the head but
with no marks of any resistance.

So it was either someone he knew

or he was taken by surprise.

Or both.

And no signs of any
damage to the vegetation.

Single attacker.

Well, it certainly wasn't three.

Any joy?

What, in a Felspar's pub?

Well, apparently it
hasn't changed much.

Just different landlord.

You know, I think
we've got it all wrong.

I think Eric came in,
took one look at this place,

and committed suicide.

I thought I told
you not to drink.

I'm not. It's crap.

So, what now?

I'd like to know how those four
soldiers got on with each other.

Hang on. I've been thinking.

Eric's body was found
in Hopkins Wood,

which is a mile that way.

But the IRU is almost two
miles in the opposite direction.

So that wood's
hardly en route, is it?

Plus there are two other pubs

closer to the IRU
than this place.

So why come here for a drink?

Well, they weren't
supposed to be out.

They'd know that if anyone
was gonna check on them,

they'd probably try the
pubs nearer the IRU.

Let's go talk to the army.

I'll catch up with you.
I'm just off to the loo.

Okay.

Oi!

Ah. Colonel Bob Kilmartin.

Detective
Superintendent Pullman.

This is Jack Halford.

- How do you do?
- Welcome.

- Please make yourself at home.
- Thank you.

I understand that
your colleagues

are off trying to track down
Sergeant Major Sharratt.

Well, that'll prove interesting.

Now, then... Eric Trimble.

Do you remember the case?

Oh, yes. Very well, I'm afraid.

Well, I was only a
junior officer at the time,

but I knew all four
men pretty well,

so it's... it's still pretty
fresh, as you can imagine.

What was Eric Trimble like?

What, as a soldier?

Well, if truth be told,
he was a pain in the ass.

"Difficult" is the
euphemism we normally use.

In what way?

Well, for a start, he'd
been absent without leave

on three separate occasions.

- Why was that?
- Why?

Well, because like
most immature people,

he didn't realize that the
army isn't a holiday camp.

To put it at its most
basic, he got homesick.

You don't sound
very sympathetic.

Well, I'm telling you
what he was like.

That he was
murdered is a tragedy.

But they're two
very separate issues.

Now, we dispatched
him to the IRU

in order to try and
keep him out of trouble,

to keep him out of harm's way.

Dispatched? I thought
soldiers volunteered for the IRU.

Uh, well, yes. Sometimes.

Not always.

Come on, lads! Keep
it moving! Come on.

You're in your own time
now! Get over that wall!

Let's have ya!

One turn, you useless testicle!

If you don't get over that
wall in the next three seconds,

I'm gonna stick a flare up
your ass and fire you over it!

- Sergeant Major Sharratt?
- Speaking.

Gerry Standing, Brian Lane.

Kipling!

You may make
exceedingly good cakes,

but you make a
God-awful bloody soldier!

- Nice turn of phrase.
- Thank you.

Try to be original.

Miller! Miller!

My granny can move faster
than that, and she's dead!

Get moving, you
superannuated ponce!

Yeah, so, uh, Eric Trimble.

Can you tell us about
the night he died,

what you remember?

We, uh...

We all went out for a drink.

Yeah. The Rising Star.

Yeah. We had a few beers.

And do you remember
leaving there?

With Eric?

There was you, Andy, and Ronnie.

I remember we, uh...

We had a few beers.

How did you get on with Eric?

Okay. Why?

Because somebody
didn't, obviously.

You weren't close
friends with him, then?

Nobody was.

Oh, you remember that.

Because you didn't
remember much at the time.

Listen, I don't remember
anything after the pub, okay?!

But other bits of stuff
have come back, yeah.

Stuff like you weren't his mate?

- What you trying to say?
- Nobody's saying anything.

But after 17 years,
it's about time they did.

Ugh!

Bit too close, lads.

Did his colleagues
get on with him?

Some did. Some didn't.

What about the three who
were with him at the IRU?

It was fine. Wasn't an issue.

For how long did the
soldiers get sent to the IRU?

It varied.

We understand that Eric
Trimble had been there before.

Yes.

And this ongoing arrangement

between yourselves
and the IRU...

How did it work, exactly?

Look, I'm sorry.

While I'm happy to
help out in any way I can,

I'm afraid that any questions
you have about the research unit

will have to be directed towards
the appropriate department.

Oh. I'm out of time.

My apologies.

I have to leave
it there. I'm sorry.

He seemed more concerned
about the reputation of his regiment

than any ex-member of it.

Appropriate department?

Flu research, my ass.

Bloody hell.

I said go to the assault
course, not through it.

There'll be a bill for this!

Sharratt reckons that none of
them were mates with Trimble.

Although, that's not how
Andy Merrill remembers it.

And Sharratt got quite
heavy when we pushed him.

All right, I'll drop you off
at Ronnie Glazebrook's.

See what he can remember.

Jack and I will dig up
some info on the IRU.

- Yeah, after I've cleaned up.
- All right.

Huh. No place like home.

Speak and make yourselves known.

Brian Lane and Gerry Standing.

We're from the Unsolved
Crime and Open Case Squad.

To see Ronnie Glazebrook.

And what is the
purpose of your visit?

Eric Trimble.

Sheesh.

Compulsive hoarder.

You don't say?

Ugh!

Are you infected? Are
you carrying disease?

No, no. It's the dust.

Careful. That dust is me.

Uh, where are you, Ronnie?

X zero five Roger.

Over.

Ronnie?

Hello?

Oh!

Get back!

We have contact.

What's the news? From the front.

Front of what?

Do the Arabs have
control? Do they?

Do they?

Do the camel jockeys
still hold the desert?

Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu!

Come in, Big Boy.
Come in, Big Boy.

What is your position? Over.

We're here about Eric Trimble.

Do you remember
him, Ronnie? He died.

Remember? Course I remember.

Eric... Eric Trimble.
He was my mate.

Black as pitch.

Here comes Botham
down the pitch.

On a charge!

Good Lord, he's put it straight
into the members stand!

Eric was your friend, then?

And Andy Merrill's, right?

Andy? Andy. Handy Andy?

Liar, liar, your
pants are on fire.

Incoming!

Look, this is a
bloody nightmare.

- He's barking!
- What do you want to know?

You were with Eric at the
Influenza Research Unit, right?

Fl... Flu? Who told you that?

Why? What was it, then?

For bad boys.

Naughty-naughty.

Going down.

We can't do this. It's
hopeless. Come on.

Ronnie? Ronnie,
we'll be back, okay?

- Beer cans?
- The man's an alcoholic.

Then when we asked
him what the IRU was,

he said, "For bad boys."

So Sharratt can
suddenly turn aggressive,

Glazebrook's a dipsomaniac,

and Merrill may have been
economical with the truth.

Now, Mark reckons Merrill
was always a liar at school.

And booze seems to
send him loopy and all.

I don't think we should
believe any of them.

Being drunk seems to
be a recurring theme.

Unlike the flu unit,

which seems to have
disappeared completely.

Yeah. Maybe.

All right, starting tomorrow

we'll track down the
ex-landlord of the Rising Star,

see what he can remember.

Someone's got to have a
decent memory of the bloody thing.

Night-night.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Oh. Fancy a quick pint?

No, I, um...

I'm gonna ask
Strickland a favor.

Now, this I've got to see.

Of course there is a
possibility that Trimble's death

is entirely unconnected to some
strange research establishment

which has now been knocked down.

But either way, I am loathe to
try and gather more information

when such action could endanger
the integrity of the department.

So...

You want me to do it.

Well, it is political, sir, and
I'm not a political animal.

Is there a racial element?

We don't know, sir.

But, uh, if you do
need an excuse...

Well, leave it with me.

Thank you, sir.
Much appreciated.

Sir.

Whatever happened that
stopped him being an officer

must really have pissed him off.

How you feeling
this morning, Jack?

- Can't complain.
- Well, you will anyway.

Oh, um, the IRU's
former director

is a Dr. Helena Mathieson.

Virologist, apparently.

School of Tropical Medicine.
She's expecting your call.

Cheers.

Result.

Dr. Mathieson.

- Thank you.
- Ah, yes. UCOS.

You want to know about
the IRU. Eric Trimble?

Yeah, that's right.

It would help to know how long

soldiers spent there,
what they got up to.

- That kind of thing.
- Of course.

Uh, well, soldiers could
be there quite some time.

A month, even.

And the four soldiers
from the King's Guards...

We understand they were
the only ones there at the time.

Yes.

We were there the
other day. The IRU site.

It was being demolished.
By men in protective clothing.

Yes, well, any lab

where there's been viral
material stored or developed

has to be thoroughly
cleansed afterwards.

I didn't know the flu virus
could live on in the soil.

Well, given recent history,

I don't think the government's
taking any chances.

Certainly less than in 1991.

Eric Trimble died
just five days before

his regiment moved to Kuwait.

They may give our men
inadequate equipment and pay,

but I think they draw
the line at a dose of flu.

Care to tell us what else might
have been going on at the IRU,

apart from flu research?

I think I've told
you everything.

Dr. Mathieson, two of the men
who were at the IRU with Trimble

have drink problems.

All three have memory problems,

particularly about the
night that Trimble died.

Now, I don't believe
they're faking it

and I don't believe
it's coincidence,

but I'm beginning to believe
that it was not accidental.

I'm sorry, but even if
I wanted to help you,

I'm bound by the
Official Secrets Act.

The Official Secrets
Act is no protection

against the charge of murder.

That is a ludicrous remark.

Not if what you gave those
men caused one of them to kill.

- Of course it didn't.
- Good.

Then you won't mind telling us
what you were exposing them to.

Thank you very much, chaps.
We'll take over from here.

Says who?

Says the chap who's asking
you very nicely to be on your way.

Okay, old man?

I preferred you
in the paper suit.

It's a cover-up!

That's why the original murder
team didn't get anywhere.

MI5 made sure they didn't.

- Thanks.
- I don't know.

There's something
else. Something not right.

That's what I'm saying.

Yeah, but what
can we do about it?

The spooks have put the block
on us talking to Helena Mathieson.

We solve the case.

We prove that one of
the three soldiers did it,

we charge him, and
we see him in court.

Ha! MI5 are gonna love that.

Fine. They can have that
argument with the lawyers.

I'm not packing it in.

Kilmartin was
evasive about the IRU.

He lied to us about
the soldiers getting on.

We'll go back to the barracks.

Where are you going now?

For a think.

Hello?

Oh, hello, yeah. Have
you got some info for me?

Yeah?

Great. Thanks.

They've found a guy
called Rod Erskine,

ex-landlord of the Rising Dump.

He now runs a pub in Portobello.

Good. Take Mr. Happy with you.

Oi! You had your think?

Uh, y-yeah.

Come on, then. Let's go.

How are you getting on?

Moving forward. We need to
ask you a few more questions.

Fire away.

You said Eric Trimble went AWOL.

Yes, several times.

And that you punished him
by sending him to the IRU.

- Yes. That was...
- So it was a punishment?

Well, not a punishment exactly.

Colonel, I'm an
experienced police officer,

and it's all too obvious to me

when someone is
trying to hide a lie.

And in this particular case

I'm getting bloody bored
with it, do you understand me?

Now, why did you send

Merrill, Glazebrook,
and Sharratt to the IRU?

No, I'm sorry, I'm not allowing
you to tarnish the reputation

of men who fought, with
honor, for this country.

Merrill and Glazebrook?
Have you seen them recently?

It isn't their reputations
that are buggered up.

I'm sorry, I'm not prepared
to answer any more questions.

In that case we have no
other option than to arrest you.

Well, on what charge?

Obstructing the
course of justice?

Trying to bribe
a police officer?

Driving without due
care and attention?!

I don't care!

But what I do care
about is that 17 years ago

one of your men was murdered,
and you don't give a shit!

So unless you want
to face the indignity

of being handcuffed
while in uniform

and marched off
to the local nick

in full view of the
entire regiment,

then I suggest you start telling
us what it is we want to know.

That's absolutely outrageous!

No, Colonel, no!

That! That is outrageous!

Colonel?

I never got to the bottom of it.

Bottom of what?

The fight.

What fight?

Trimble and Sharratt.

They were caught
fighting in the armory.

It was very serious.

- What happened?
- Well, I don't know.

Merrill and Glazebrook
were involved as well.

I questioned all four of them,

but none of them
would tell me anything.

Sharratt and Glazebrook
were bloody good soldiers.

I didn't want to have
to discipline them.

So I sent them off to the IRU.

I told them that by
the time they returned,

they'd better have sorted
themselves out or else.

So that's what we did.

We sent them off
to Major Mathieson.

Major Mathieson?

Yes, yes. Of the
Territorial Army, yes.

God, look at that. Proper
old pub for a change.

- Afternoon, gents.
- Hiya.

What can I get you?

Whoa! Pole Star S.A.

I'll have a pint
of that. Terrific.

Yeah, and he'll have
some sparkling water.

I mean, look at those mirrors.
They're fantastic, aren't they?

Why haven't I been
in here before, eh?

Gerry...

So, uh, are you the
landlord? Rod Erskine?

- That's right.
- Gerry Standing.

Gerry...

What?

It's a gay pub.

Something wrong?

Uh, we're from the Met. Police.

We're here about a murder.

Eric Trimble.

Who?

You know who.

Eric Trimble.

17 years.

17 years I've been
waiting for this.

Sorry.

Sorry for what?

For lying. For not...

Not what? What did you do?

Oh, no, it wasn't me.

I-I didn't kill Eric. I swear.

But?

But I did know him.

I... I knew Eric.

You don't mean biblically?

What, Eric was gay?

Was when I finished with him.

Sorry.

Yeah. I-I mean...

He was so sweet.

Gorgeous. You know what I mean?

Part of him didn't want
to be. Gay, I mean. But...

Oh, yeah.

Eric was big, black,
loud and proud.

And how long did you know him?

It was just a few months.

Although we did see
each other several times.

I told him about my pub.

The Rising Star.

Told him to come out there.

If you'll pardon the pun.

And was the Rising
Star the same as...

Well, the same as this place?

In Uxbridge?

Yeah, funny thing
is it was, actually.

Well, not overtly.
Not... Not back then.

Yeah, well, I didn't know
he was gonna turn up

with three big, butch
squaddies in tow.

Maniac.

- I was so pissed off.
- Were you?

Oh, no. Not like that.

But they were.

After a few drinks, one
of them went mental.

Screaming at Eric about
dragging him to fairy land,

to a poof's palace.

In the end, I had
to get them all out.

Hold on, hold on.

In your witness statement,
you said they all left quietly.

Well, of course I did.

After we found out
what had happened,

me and the regulars agreed
to keep schtum about it.

You mean lied.

Some of them were married men.

My mum was still alive.

She didn't know
about... about me.

Listen, which one of the
squaddies went mental?

Can you remember?

Had sandy hair.

Plus, he was horrible.

Do you believe him?

It makes sense of where
Eric was when he was AWOL.

Gadding around
Soho with Hot Rod.

Certainly explain
the fight in the armory.

And Sharratt doesn't strike
me as the type of bloke

who'd be too happy to find out
that he was in Gay Company.

Especially if Eric then
took him to a gay pub.

Yeah. No wonder he went mental.

Hold on.

There's no forensics
linking Sharratt...

Well, linking any of these
squaddies with the crime.

And it still doesn't explain

why Eric was found in the
opposite direction to the IRU.

They can't have
been going back there.

They don't remember, remember?

Maybe they all split up.

What, Eric went off on
his own with Mr. Maniac?

I'm afraid I'm gonna have to

call this
investigation to a halt.

- Is that official?
- No.

But it's been made clear to
me that were you to continue,

we would be put under
the kind of pressure

that could be very unpleasant.

Sir, we're really close.

Look, I'm sorry.

I appreciate how determined
you've been to solve this case,

but higher forces
are at work here

and it would be foolish to even
attempt to countermand them.

What a bastard.

That's unfair, Gerry.

No, no. Not him. Bloody Spooks.

That's the first time I've
ever felt sorry for him.

So, what are we gonna do?

Well, you heard
him. We're stuffed.

No, we're not.

Not if we get a
confession, we're not.

This case has already
gone public once.

If we get a confession,
we get a court case.

And then there's nothing
MI5 can do about it.

But how do we get any
of these blokes to confess?

They can't remember anything.

You ever heard of
agent provocateur?

Yeah. Yeah, I bought my ex
a pair of knickers there once.

Provocation.

Whiskey, please.
Large one. With ice.

Heavy day.

I'll say.

Tell me, why did you get
sent to the Flu Research Unit?

What?

You like a spot of
gay-bashing, do you?

Who the hell are you?

Take a running jump.

So you found out
that Eric was gay,

and then you made
his life a misery.

Him? Make his life a misery?

You don't know
what you're on about.

Don't I? Why you
getting so excited, then?

Oh, dear.

Do you have to take those
to stop yourself from losing it?

I take them when I have a drink.

When I drink, that's all.

I never knew Trimble was
bent until he took us to that pub.

Don't believe you.

You know nothing
about Trimble, do you?

I know that he
was beaten to death

after he left the pub with you.

Not by me.

And we have a witness who said

that you lost it
with him in there.

Yeah, I did.

- And you know why?
- Tell me.

I caught him
bullying Andy Merrill.

Like I say. You didn't know him.

But let me tell you.
Eric Trimble was a bully.

A big, nasty, bullying shit.

And the worst part of it was,

the moment anyone stood up
to him, he played the race card.

Oh, so that's what you
were doing in the armory.

You were standing up to him.

Except he was beating the
shit out of me till Ronnie piled in.

And then you beat
the shit out of him

after you left the Rising Star.

No, no, no, no.

No, you don't.

I've only been on a
charge once in my life,

and all 'cause of that shit.

And now here you
are, 17 years later,

trying to fit me
up for killing him?

Me? Me?

I've put my balls on
the line for this country!

Iraq. Bosnia. Afghanistan.

I've got medals you have
to be bleeding dead to get

in the Yank army.

And now you want me to
go down for that lowlife?!

No, no. No. It's all right.

Oh, hello! What have you
come as, Swampy's dad?

Take it easy!

All right! Take it easy!
Calm down, all right?

What are doing with
this load of poofs?

You want a man,
darling. A real man.

Not these geriatrics!

People like you
think we're scum, dirt.

But when shit happens,
when it all goes tits-up,

we're the people
you want out there

killing all those nasty
bastards trying to kill us.

And I've done it.

I've killed men. Lots of them.

But I didn't kill him.

I didn't like him.

But I didn't kill him.

Not exactly an overwhelming
confession, was it?

What about Merrill?
Or Glazebrook?

No.

I think we have to face the fact

that they don't or
can't remember.

Oh, my God.

"A Metropolitan
Police investigation

into the unsolved murder

of black army private
Eric Trimble in 1991

has been halted
after the inquiry team

uncovered his
involvement as a guinea pig

at a secretive research
facility near Uxbridge.

Its former head,
Helena Mathieson,

has served with the British army
in both Afghanistan and Iraq."

Admiring your handiwork?

I suppose you think this is a
clever way around the impasse?

Yes, well, I've just spent
the best part of an hour

begging the commissioner
not to take any action,

assuring him that the leak

didn't emanate
from this department.

- But...
- No.

This time, I talk, you listen.

If I ever find out who's
responsible for this nightmare,

they're out.

End of story.

Wait here.

Don't look at me.

It's the first time I've ever
bought the bleedin' paper.

Not me.

No. But I wish I had.

Come on. Don't
be silly. Who was it?

Oh, of course!

Very good, very good!

Well, don't you
get it? It was him!

What, you...

Mr. Hamilton would
like another word.

It's been agreed,
with great reluctance,

to allow Dr. Mathieson to answer
any questions you may have

regarding the
death of Private...

Murder.

Let him finish, please.

Regarding the death
of Private Trimble.

The interview is to be conducted

in the presence of a
Security Services official.

This should be interesting.

I told you.

Dr. Mathieson, can you tell
me what the relationship was

between the IRU and the
MoD that allowed soldiers...

No, she can't.

In fact, she won't be
answering any questions

that pertain to
national security.

I do hope you're not
gonna be too boring.

Ditto.

All right, then can you tell me
what the nature of the work was

that was carried out
on Private Trimble

and the other three soldiers?

I presume it wasn't to
stop them from sneezing.

We were trialing a new drug.

Medicine?

For the army. A
prototype, Perfectly safe.

Formulated to remove feelings
of vulnerability and inhibition

in order to heighten aggression.

The drug had previously been
tried out upon several other...

- Guinea pigs?
- Trialists.

It proved to be
highly effective,

nontoxic, and harmless.

Really?

So why are Sharratt, Merrill,
and Glazebrook bonkers?

The drug was not the problem.

So there was a problem?

Because despite
very clear warnings,

the men broke the curfew, left
the unit, and went to the pub.

And?

The combination of drug
and alcohol was... unfortunate.

The damage to their memory
may have resulted from this.

It's why the trial
was discontinued.

Oh, I see. Not
because a man died?

When Glazebrook, Sharratt,
and Merrill returned to the IRU,

they were difficult to control.

We had to sedate them.

So you're saying, in that state,

it's likely that one of
them did kill Trimble?

I don't know.

Short of repeating
the combination

of test drug and alcohol...
Hardly a good idea...

I don't see how you
could prove it either.

I wouldn't put it past her.

Did any of them confess?

No.

So, what happened
after they were sedated?

Dr. Mathieson contacted the
MoD and a search was instigated.

So Trimble's body
was found at 3:00 p.m.

the following afternoon?

- 4:00 a.m.
- What?

The body was
discovered at 4:00 a.m.

We had to wait for the
three soldiers to come to.

When they did, it was
clear they had no recollection

of what happened
after they got drunk.

If this case had
ever gone to court,

one or all of these soldiers
would have been tied to a murder

through no fault of their own.

Please!

You mean the MoD would
have ended up in the dock

for not protecting its own men.

Merrill, Glazebrook, and
Sharratt are walking wounded.

They weren't part of a trial.
They were part of an experiment.

Thank you for your
expert opinion, Mr. Halford.

But as I understand it,

the men are able to
lead perfectly normal lives

providing they take the
appropriate medication.

Interview terminated
at 10:07 a.m.

The drug Eric took removed all
his inhibitions about being gay,

about being seen to be gay.

Which is probably
why he had no qualms

about taking the other
three to meet his boyfriend.

It removed all their
inhibitions as well.

They were out their heads.

Sharratt almost
certainly killed him,

but I doubt if he
even realized it.

Yeah, well, they killed him.

Scientists, MoD, MI5. Not
those poor bloody squaddies.

And we're supposed
to sit here and pretend

that that's how it should be.

Yeah, well, you
did what you could.

All of you.

You can't do more.

Sharratt they look after.
He's still in the army.

It's a sheltered environment.

They can keep an eye on
him, utilize him, find him a role.

Andy Merrill they just
throw back into civvy street

without a second thought.

Unemployable. Cocktail of drugs.

Mind only half there.

And as for Glazebrook,

well, him they just wash
their hands of completely.

Post-traumatic stress.

Gulf War syndrome.
Whatever you want to call it.

No aftercare,
welfare, home help.

No one to ensure he
takes his medication.

Just dumped.

"Just drink."

Gulf War syndrome?

It's all right. I
haven't got it.

- Kiss me.
- What?

- I want you to kiss me.
- What, now?

Does there have to be a set time

for you to show your
undying devotion?

Oh, I see. No, I'm not drinking.

What's this?

Oh, developing religious mania.

Oh!

Well, I can't see you
as a Jehovah's Witness.

Where did you get it from?

The dead boy's parents' house.

What?

Jehovah's Witnesses can't
serve in the armed forces.

What are you talking
about? It's not illegal.

They don't allow
themselves to join up.

They object conscientiously.

You knew that.

This better be good.

"Good morning" would be nice.

Why did you drag me here?

I don't want to
go in there alone.

Plus I get a lift back to
the station afterwards.

Come on.

Oi. Where's your coat?

Dry cleaner's.

Speak and make yourselves known.

The guardians of the ring.

Frodo the hobbit
and Gimli the dwarf.

You're the dwarf.

Take cover, Ronnie.
We're coming in.

Go ahead, foxtrot three.
Receiving you loud and clear.

State your position.

ETA five minutes, Ronnie.

On target. Looking to
complete operations.

Go ahead.

Eric Trimble, black as pitch.

Keith Sharratt.

Andy Merrill. You.

Keith realized Eric
was homosexual.

Andy didn't.

What about you, Ronnie?

Incoming!

Did you know he was gay, Ronnie?

Yes, of course. He told me.

- He told you?
- Are you sure?

He was away with the
fairies. Friend of Dorothy's.

That was why we
went and got pissed.

He wanted to be out.

Why did he tell you, Ronnie?

Look out!

I don't care.

What? You didn't care?

You can't tell Andy.
He wouldn't understand.

Can't tell Sharratt.
He wouldn't like it.

Not happy.

He told you?

Uh-huh.

Anyone else?

With a single bound he was free.

He was free.

Himself.

And once he has spoken,
he can tell the world.

Free at last.

Free at last.

Lord God almighty, free at last!

E.T. phone home.

Over and out.

Would you care to translate?

E.T. E.T. phone home.

- I'm not going in there.
- No, nor me.

I mean, why would
anybody want to come here?

Even drunk and drugged?

- Exactly.
- That's why.

What?

Who'd need an old phone
box now with mobile phones?

But back then in
'91... E.T. phone home.

E.T. Eric Trimble.

Oh!

Oh, those are lovely.
Who sent those?

Nobody sent them. I
bought them for you.

Oh, thank you.

What are you doing?

I'm polishing me shoes.

Brian, what's happened?

That poor lad who
died. Eric Trimble.

No, I mean what's
happened to your trainers?

I thought they were
looking a bit tatty.

What have you got there?

Supper.

Got some chops.

Esther, do you never think
that life might be a bit too short

for just chops?

I mean don't you think
that it's incumbent upon us

to make the most of whatever
time we have left on this earth?

After all, what else is there?

All right. Okay.

Tonight we shall
settle for chops.

But tomorrow night I'm
taking you out to dinner.

To dine royally.

As befits a wonderful
woman like you.

Esther.

You look lovely.

I bet you can
look even lovelier.

- Sit down.
- Thank you.

Alicia isn't back. She's
gone to get my shopping.

Well, actually, we wanted
to talk to you, Mrs. Trimble,

about the last time
you spoke to Eric.

The night he died,
he... he rang you,

and you spoke
to him, didn't you?

Mrs. Trimble?

Oh. Hi.

What is it? What's going on?

We're just talking
to your mother

about Eric's last phone call.

Last call?

Yes, Eric rang here the
night he was murdered.

No. That's not right.

You must remember
the call, Mrs. Trimble.

Mum?

We'd like you tell us
exactly what Eric said to you.

What are you doing?

Alicia, that's enough.

He said how much he
loved me, loved us all.

What else?

He said he had to speak to Dad.

Arthur. His father.

He told his father the same
thing, that he loved him.

And because he loved him,
he had to tell him the truth.

What truth was that, Cora?

You believe in the power of
God's truth, Cora, am I right?

Yes.

You believe in the word of God.

You believe that Christ
died and rose up again.

Yes.

And Arthur believed this too.

But you also believe that no man

should take up arms against
his fellow man the way Eric did.

We forgave Eric.

As a family, we... we came
to terms with what Eric did.

And as Jehovah's Witnesses,

you also believe that
homosexuality is wrong.

You believe it's
a sin, am I right?

What are you saying?

Arthur believed that, didn't he?

He felt that it wasn't just
a sin but an abomination.

Stop it.

You're frightening her.

No, Alicia. I am not afraid.

Cora, did you know about Eric?

What he realized he was?

Of course.

I'm his mother.

What did Arthur do?
After the phone call?

Did he go out that night
after the phone call?

Arthur was a good man.

A fine man.

But strict. With a temper.

He... He loved his son.

He can forgive the
sinner but not the sin.

He went to speak to Eric.

Talk to him.

Try to make him
turn away from sin.

Eric told him it was the first
time in his life he felt free.

When Arthur hear that,
he said he lost control.

Rage.

Satan overcome him.

Then when he saw
what he had done...

he knew he was
cast down, cast out.

He could not entertain any
hope of life, now or eternal.

And I could never, ever
forgive him for what he had done.

Alicia.

I'm sorry.

Could you kill your son?

Don't know. I've never had one.

Definitely kill mine.

Thought I'd find you
here. Thanks for the report.

Thank, Brian. Down to him.

Not sure if it'll exactly endear
us to the Security Services,

but, uh, what the
hell... Well done.

Sir.

Can I ask you a question?

How come you were never
accepted for Sandhurst?

Wrong place at the wrong time.

I punched the wrong man.

Get away.

Respect.

Yeah, well, I'm off.
See you next week.

Me too. Well done, Brian.

- Come on, Gerry.
- All right.

I'm, uh... I'm
off to the toilet.

- I'll see you.
- See you later.

Pint of bitter and a vodka shot.

Ta.

Ahh.

Same again.

I was working just
'round the corner.

You look nice.

Where's Dad?

Now, who's for more Tia Maria?

Oh, come on.

You know you'd like to.

You know you want to.

And I know, deep down beneath
that impressively upholstered

and passionately seething
bosom, you know you need to!

Only a small one.

Oh! Don't be so personal.

How about you?

Is size everything
in your compendium?

You're mad, you are.

As a fish!

Subtitling made
possible by Acorn Media