Original subtitles

Hello?

Mr. and Mrs. Lane.

I'm Father Bernard. Welcome to Trinity.

May your stay here be a peaceful and rewarding one.

Brian!

He's a monk.

You said an addiction clinic, not a ruddy monastery.

Brian, if you don't get out of this car

and in through that door,

you'll never see me again.

Oh, bollocks.

♪ It's alright, it's okay ♪

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

♪ It's alright, I say, it's okay ♪

♪ listen to what I say ♪

♪ It's alright, doin' fine ♪

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

♪ It's alright, I say, it's okay ♪

♪ we're gettin' to the end of the day ♪ ♪

Subtitling made possible by Acorn Media

While we endeavor to combat the destructive patterns

of behavior prevalent in the addictive personality,

we are also committed

to an holistic approach to the patient,

whereby his physiological and psychological dependency

is viewed and treated in the round.

- Eh?

Forgive me. What I mean to say is

that we consider

the spiritual aspects of the treatment

equally vital to the afflicted individual's

eventual recovery.

Thank you, Father.

That was what so impressed me about your Web site.

I looked you up after reading your book,

"The Faith to Fight Pain."

I'm not a Catholic.

That's not important.

In fact, I'm not religious, in any way,

that's why I don't like the AA 12-step program.

In all my years of treating addicts, Brian,

that is one of their greatest problems.

Deep down, at heart,

they don't know what they are.

This is your room.

Oh, it's lovely.

The only things you won't find are

a computer and a telephone.

While visits from family and friends are welcome,

any other form of communication with the outside world

is strictly forbidden.

Why?

Because time spent in isolated contemplation

is worth its weight in gold.

Now, I'll leave you to settle in

and say your goodbyes.

Thank you, Father.

Bed's too hard.

Good.

So how did it go?

They seem very nice.

The monks?

It's very tranquil.

They've got bees

and chickens.

He's very upset.

He's annoyed.

I'm sorry.

Don't be silly.

This is his last chance.

I've told him.

Is there anything we can do?

Yes.

You can leave him alone, all of you.

Please.

Yes?

Brian, I'd like you to meet some of the other helpers here.

This is Brother Raymond.

Welcome to Trinity.

Raymond is also an alcoholic,

though he hasn't had a drink in...?

23 years. - What about communion wine?

I don't swallow.

Brian, Brother Mark.

Brother Mark will be your personal counselor

throughout your stay.

Whatever may trouble you, at any time,

come, speak with me.

Neil Barclay. Hi.

Neil's chief clinician.

He specializes in alcohol and gambling addiction.

And, last, but, by no means, least...

Anna Greening.

Anna's in charge

of sex- and drug-addiction treatment.

She and Neil are qualified both

in conventional and psychiatric medicine.

I see. Jack of all trades, master of none, is that it?

You're very neat.

- I suppose you're going to tell me that means

I want to sleep with me grandmother, or something?

- No, it just means you're neat.

I just believe everything should be in its right place.

Don't you?

I think you are.

Peace be with you, my son.

Dinner's at 7:30.

The Little what?

- Brothers of Merciful Assistance.

"The Trinity Clinic:

a practical and spiritual answer to the problems of addiction."

God help him.

I think that's the general idea.

Expensive.

Does he have to pray, and all that?

I don't think they force you.

- I mean, it's not just him not being here, it's...

It's all the rest of it, innit?

His stupid coat, his trainers...

Sandwiches, thermos flask...

Glasses, perched on the end of his nose...

That big, old, sad, stupid face of his.

Oh, bugger it! Come on, let's go and see him.

No.

Esther says no.

She didn't say it outright, but I think

she partly blames us for not doing more.

She's right. We should've noticed he was slipping.

We did notice. We just pretended not to.

Yeah, well, there's not a lot we can do about it now.

- Morning. - Sir.

Okay, where is he?

He's off sick, sir.

- Mm-hmm? And how long will he be "off sick"?

I don't know. It depends on how well he responds to treatment.

Or until the money runs out.

Do you think I'm totally stupid?

Think, very carefully, before you say anything.

With all due respect, sir, he's a recovering alcoholic.

With all due respect,

he's a lapsed alcoholic, i.e., a mess.

Even with the best will in the world,

his absence cannot be just openended.

That's not the union position, sir.

What?

The union. Brian's a member of the CPSA.

They're funding his treatment.

I mean, if you want to take it up with them,

I can...

Get rid of the bike.

Nice.

So, Brian, you're an alcoholic.

In other words,

a self-obsessed, weak-willed individual

who has brought nothing but pain and unhappiness

to his family and friends.

What?

I mean, who do you think you are?!

What type of person is it

that lives without any thought in the day

except for when it will be possible for him

to stick another bottle of liquor down his throat?

What the hell are you doing?

You're supposed to be a monk.

What happened to faith, hope, and charity?

My job is to change your life.

Well, I'm sorry, but you're going about it

in completely the wrong way.

Oh, am I, really?

Yes! Okay, so I have a drink!

Good.

Well, now we've established

what you are, we can move forward.

There's only one place I'm moving, mate!

Look, I'm sorry, Bernurd.

"Father Bernard."

This is not going to work! - What?

This, here, the treatment!

Your mate Raymond, for a start.

Brother Raymond?

Brother raving maniac! He's a disgrace.

Brother Raymond is a highly qualified

and experienced therapist.

I don't care if he's Sigmund Freud's hairdresser.

You don't talk to people that way!

I suspect you're talking about confrontation therapy.

You know what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about

driving folk over the edge.

What's the point of curing people's addictions,

if they end up topping themselves?

You're talking about what happened nine years ago.

What?

Sorry?

What you just said. - What was that?

"Nine years ago."

What didn't happen nine years ago?

I don't know. I don't know what you're talking about.

You said something about something not happening. What?

Perhaps, Brian,

before subjecting you to Brother Raymond,

we should talk more fully about the origins of your illness.

Bugger it.

Ah.

Agh! Ah!

Hello?

Sandra? Sandra, it's me, Brian.

What are you doing?

I'm in a phone box.

Phone box? Why aren't you in the clinic?

Christ, you haven't run away, have you?

No, no, no, no, it's just I couldn't find

anywhere with a phone and I had to talk to you.

It's 2:00 in the morning, Brian!

Look, get back to the clinic

before they find out you've gone.

Worse... before they find out and tell Esther.

No, no, listen, you don't understand.

Look, I think I've found out something.

Now, it happened nine years ago

and I need you to find out what it was.

And, in the meantime...

No, Brian, you can't! You don't work for UCOS anymore

and, if you don't get back to that clinic,

you never will again. Now, please, go back.

Brian...

Welcome back.

She loves you very much, your wife.

Oh, yes.

- You are fortunate to be so loved, still,

after you have damaged so much.

2:00 in the morning?

- Yeah. It was an excuse, his way of trying

to avoid treatment, and we can't let him do that,

because Esther's given him a final warning.

You think he made it up?

- That's why I'm doing an IIP check,

so we can prove there nothing's there

and tell Brian it's a load of old... Bollocks.

What?

- Oh, God, no. - What?

Robert Smith. Died June 21, 2000.

"Trinity Clinic, Hatch End.

Open verdict. Case unsolved."

So he's right. Brian was right!

Well, he'll find out. You know what he's like.

He'll find out.

So who was this Robert Smith?

He was a heroin addict.

So what do we do?

There's only one thing we can do.

I mean, to stop Brian from getting involved,

because, if Esther gets a whiff of this,

we're dead meat, especially Brian.

We're going to have to take this case on ourselves,

just the three of us.

Well, what do we tell Strickland?

- Yes, what do you tell Strickland?

Robert Smith, aged 30.

Found on the morning of June 21, 2000

at the foot of these stairs with a broken neck,

just 12 days after his arrival at the Trinity Clinic.

Blood and tissue samples on the stairs

indicate cause of death is consistent

with his having fallen all the way down.

The postmortem also revealed methadone in his system.

Not a huge amount,

but, then, as now, the clinic operated

a strict no-drugs policy in its treatment program.

So he could've been drugged and then pushed?

- He could've brought the methadone in himself.

The coroner said as much, but he also made it clear

that someone else could've brought it in

and given Smith the drugs,

so we could be either looking at manslaughter or murder.

Who was there on the night he died?

The five members of staff:

Father Bernard, head of the clinic;

plus Brothers Mark and Raymond; and also two lay therapists,

Anna Greening and Curtis McCormack,

McCormack being the only one no longer there.

Any patients?

- Yeah, just three, but the murder team found

no evidence to link them or the members of staff

to Smith's death. - What about his family?

Just a father and a younger brother,

who attended the funeral, but, before that,

they hadn't seen him for eight years.

Well, it's not that surprising, is it?

Not if he was a junkie.

This "junkie" also had a girlfriend,

as well as a family.

And, what, Brian Lane is your man on the inside?

This is Lane we're talking about,

a man under clinical supervision, not Deep Throat.

All right, all right, you can have your investigation,

but I don't want him anywhere near it.

- I couldn't agree more, sir.

Well, how the hell are we going to do that?

Well, I'll leave that with you.

Um, I've got an idea.

Ah, come in.

This is Brian. He arrived on Wednesday.

We're just about to start the group session,

so why don't those of you who are new to the clinic

tell us who you are

and why you're here?

Hi, my name's Gerry

and I'm a sexaholic.

Gerry, we prefer "sex addict."

Well, yeah, so do I.

Mind if I join you?

Brian, isn't it?

Food good? It looks good,

but, then, appearances can be deceptive, can't they?

Look at them.

They're anorexics. - Ah.

- What the hell are you doing here?

Sandra's taken on the Rob Smith case.

What Rob Smith case?

Drug addict.

Died in here nine years ago.

Broken neck.

It's on file and it's still unsolved.

I knew it! - Shh!

Now, Strickland said you are persona non grata

on this one, all right?

So, while the good brothers

are keeping their beady eye on you,

I've come in as a sort of fifth communist.

Fifth columnist.

Look, Gerry, I don't need you in here.

I can find out everything that needs finding out meself.

No, you can't.

Listen, you'd better take a good look in the mirror, mate.

You're not having anything to do with this.

You just sort your head out, okay?

Jack.

- Yes.

I got that.

And thank you for going to so much trouble. Bye.

I found her, the girlfriend. She's a Natalie Joyner.

Also an ex-addict, living in Esher.

Not renowned for its crack dens.

How about you?

Well, of the three patients who were in the clinic with Smith,

the drug addict died in 2004;

the compulsive gambler lives in Hong Kong.

Apparently, he won the jackpot on a seven-horse accumulator.

So much for the Trinity Clinic's strict regime.

For God's sake, don't tell Gerry that.

- And the last one,

the anorexic, is still around... A Claire Makepeace,

lives somewhere near the City Road.

- There's a Claire Makepeace who's a journalist.

- That's the one. - She writes lifestyle pieces.

Does she?

They're very moving, actually.

- Hmm.

So, tell me, who would you rather interview,

the ex-junkie girlfriend

or the caring, award-winning journalist?

Let me guess.

Natalie Joyner? Jack Halford, UCOS.

- Oh, yes, come in.

I went over the interview you had with the police in 2000.

It was very disjointed.

You didn't seem to remember very much.

- Well, I was a heroin addict.

I wouldn't have known what day it was.

Yet, they called you in to identify the body.

I was living with Rob at the time.

Nobody knew he had a family.

I only met them at the funeral.

I adored Rob.

He was gorgeous.

Funny, intelligent, caring...

Everything you'd look for in a man.

Apart from the drugs.

- The truth is, he hated heroin.

I don't think he ever really enjoyed it.

No, not even at the start.

So why did he start?

- Like a lot of addicts, I guess, to block out pain.

Physical, mental?

Both, I think. I don't really know.

Look, I didn't even know he had a family.

I didn't know he'd been to university.

There were whole areas of Rob's life

he just wouldn't let me into.

We were just junkies.

There she is.

Thank you. - Okay.

Claire Makepeace?

Hmm?

I spoke to your PA earlier. I'm Det Supt Pullman.

Ah, yes.

Thanks for taking the time to talk.

Actually, can I say, first of all,

how much I admire your writing?

Especially all the stuff about your struggles with anorexia.

I've no difficulty talking about that,

but I don't particularly want it known

I spent time at The Trinity Clinic.

Oh, no, don't worry, I'm not the kind of cop

who goes around leaking stuff, certainly not to press.

Really? That would be a first.

But I am reexamining the death of Robert Smith

and you were there at the time, so...

Perhaps I didn't make myself clear.

I'm not prepared to expose myself

to the point where it could affect my livelihood.

Ms. Makepeace, this is a strictly informal interview,

but, if you'd like, I can go through certain channels

to ensure I get the information I want,

and then, all sorts of coppers

will find out who I've been talking to.

Are you trying to blackmail me?

No, I'm just trying to drag you

off that bloody high horse you're sat on.

This is a possible murder inquiry,

Ms. Makepeace.

So, Robert Smith. Remember him?

Yes, of course I do.

Thank you. What was he like?

He was very nice. Very handsome.

I had a few conversations with him.

He told me he was absolutely determined to get off drugs.

And you believed him?

- Yes, I did.

His dying shocked me.

Can you think of any reason

why methadone was found in his body?

I'm a journalist, not a pharmacologist.

Besides, I didn't find out about that until the inquest,

by which time, I was out of Trinity

and on the road to recovery, end of story.

So what do you think happened at the clinic?

Do you reckon Rob smuggled the methadone in himself?

No, absolutely not.

He thought the only way to come off smack was to go cold-turkey.

That's why he went to Trinity...

He knew they had a no-drugs policy.

Did you visit him there? - Once.

How was he when you saw him? - Different.

Did he seem scared, at all?

Was he ever scared,

of anything, anybody, in particular?

No, I don't think so.

The only thing I remember him being freaked out by

were dreams.

In his sleep,

he'd be struggling, fighting, swearing,

and then, when he woke up, he was so upset,

he just wanted to jack up straightaway.

So it's important

to face up to the possibility

of a life without fear,

even though, you know, that prospect, in itself,

may be truly frightening.

- We'd like you, therefore,

to share a fear that's personal to you,

a fear you want to confront and overcome.

Who'd like to kick us off?

Brian.

Yeah, well, I suppose one thing I always remember

is a case I worked on when I was a cop.

It was an addict... An alcoholic,

like me.

We found him in his house, alone.

He'd drunk himself to death.

He'd been there

for two weeks, in his bath.

He'd drunk so much,

his face was purple

and wrinkled,

like a prune.

Because of the water,

his skin had started to separate,

to come away in great handfuls, like...

Like lumps of...

fatty, waxy frogspawn.

- Oh!

- So I suppose

that's my fear,

that the end of me life will be...

just frogspawn.

Interesting, isn't it?

That was a very powerful and emotional image, Brian.

- Thanks very much.

- Tell me, how long is it now?

Since you had a drink.

- This is a lovely house, isn't it?

Very aesthetic. Must have quite a history, eh?

- Well, apparently, the original bits were Elizabethan.

The family were recusants,

that's why there's a small chapel.

- No, I really meant since it became a clinic.

You know, the patients.

You must have a few stories, eh?

You should know better, Brian.

Anyway, I only came here in 2003.

- Well, lucky you.

I suppose your poor predecessor,

he had to retire, did he?

- No, he left.

- Really? I can't imagine anyone leaving a place like this.

Don't tell me... He had a falling out

with this lot here, eh, eh?

I don't think it was an entirely happy association.

Let's just say

Dr. McCormack felt his future lay more

in the direction of Harley Street.

Come in!

Oh, hi, Gerry. Do you want to take a seat?

- Do you want me on the couch?

I mean, do you want me to lie on the couch?

Why, do you want to lie there?

No, no, no.

No, sitting's fine.

Okay. Well, Gerry,

at the group meeting earlier,

you were a little reticent about exposing yourself.

Sorry?

The extent of your condition.

Oh.

So let's get down to it.

Why do you think you're a sex addict?

Well, I can't stop thinking about it.

Sex?

- Yeah, I never stop thinking about it.

That's not necessarily unusual. Most men think about it a lot.

Women, too.

Do they? - Of course.

Yeah, but I mean, I think about it every moment of every day.

Right. So, you're thinking about it now, then?

Well, no, no, not precisely at this moment, no.

Okay.

How about now?

- Sorry?

Gerry, there is a big difference

between obsession and compulsion.

An addict can't stop actually having sex.

- Well, no, that's me.

Okay. When did you last engage in any kind of sexual act?

Just before I came in here.

Just before you came in the room?

No, no, no, I mean, just before I came in the clinic.

- Gerry, I don't necessarily mean with somebody else.

Oof.

Please, relax.

Seriously, there is nothing that you've done, can say,

or describe that I haven't heard before.

- Yeah, but, I'm sorry, I just can't help it, you see,

this... this addiction, it's so overwhelming, at times,

I just can't cope.

That's not unusual either.

Well, it is, for me.

I mean, some days, I'm suicidal.

I bet you've never had patients like that, have you?

People who are

so addicted to something that they...

They just can't carry on.

Gerry... let's get back to sex.

Do you believe her?

- Natalie? Yes, I did.

Breath of fresh air, someone telling me the truth, for once.

- I wish I could say the same about Claire Makepeace.

- Well, never meet your idols.

Mind you, she did speak of Smith's determination

to get clean.

I wonder what his nightmares were about.

Maybe the family know.

Right, lay it back to him.

Give it, give it. Give it!

You... ugh! What...

Aah!

Uh, hold on, hold on!

Just a minute!

I'm coming! I mean, I'm, uh,

getting near the door.

One minute. I'll be with you.

Aah!

What the bloody hell are you doing?!

Shh! They patrol the corridors.

Have you got a woman in here?

Ha! I wish!

You frightened the bleedin' life out of me!

Shh! Listen, Neil Barclay's only been here since 2003.

You know, the civvy shrink. And he reckons the last one...

Brian, you're not working this case!

The last psychiatrist, McCormack,

left under a bit of a cloud.

- Are you listening to me?

You've been smoking, haven't you?

- Smoking? No!

All right, all right.

- You'll get chucked out!

- Look, you think you got problems?

I'm a sex addict.

Anyway, I had to bring the stuff in, just to prove

they could smuggle in the methadone.

Now, listen, you leave the undercover work to me,

all right?

All you've got to worry about is not drinking.

- Where have you put it?

- Where have I put what?

- The beer.

- What beer?

- "What beer"? Gerry, I can smell beer a mile off.

Good morning.

Det Supt Pullman, Jack Halford,

from the Unsolved Crime and Open Case Squad.

We're here about Robert Smith.

My father's not well. He has MS.

- All right, Alen.

May I ask the whereabouts of your wife, Mr. Smith?

Mum died the year before my brother.

I'm sorry.

Now, we understand that,

when Rob died,

you hadn't heard from him for quite some time.

No. - How come?

He'd just finished his degree.

He was going to do a Masters,

but he wanted to take a gap year, travel.

When was this?

1992.

He stayed in touch for a month or so, but then...

- Nothing.

Nothing at all? - Not for four years.

Christina, my wife,

she was sick with worry.

But he did get back in touch, at some point?

Eventually. - 1996.

He was totally changed.

You could hear it in his voice.

- "Hear it"? You didn't see him?

He wouldn't come. Christina begged him, but...

- He said he didn't want any contact.

- I asked him if he was in trouble.

He said no.

Christina couldn't get over it.

A son, not wanting to see his own mother?

It broke her heart.

Then, when Robert died

and I heard he'd been a drug addict...

How does that happen?

I mean, he was always happy.

What did we do wrong?

So you never saw your brother again before he died?

- No. - What did you think

when you found out what had happened to him?

Do you ever remember him having nightmares? Bad ones.

Rob? No, never.

- Can I ask you, where did he go

when he left home, do you know?

No.

All he said was he was going to go somewhere

to do something that'd make Mum proud.

Your mum? What did he mean by that?

I don't know.

That was a secret, I suppose.

Ah, here he is.

Hello, love.

I just came to see how you are.

Do you mind?

- No, no, no. Let's go in the garden.

- Oh! All right.

Ah. You seem... well.

- Do I?

Well, you're looking better.

How's the food?

- I prefer yours.

Mark's...

He's very busy.

- Ah. One of the monks is called Mark.

That one that just signed you in.

- Oh, he seemed quite nice.

- His syntax is all over the place.

- I spoke to Sandra.

Oh, yeah? - In case you're wondering

why none of them have been to see you...

I asked her not to, not to come.

Are you angry?

- Let's go and see the bees. - What?

- Mrs. Standing. - Hello.

And? - Jack. I'm Gerry's brother.

- Darling! - Oh, hi.

- I'll leave you to it.

Nice to meet you.

Brother Mark.

- So, anything to tell us?

- No, it's early days, at the moment. I can't...

Ah, Anna, come and meet my wife, Sandra,

and my older brother, Jack.

- How do you do? - Hi.

- Anna Greening, my therapist.

- Oh! So how's he doing, my old man?

Yeah, he's settling in very well.

Can I have a word with you?

Yeah, sure.

He's been very honest and open,

especially about the difficulties

each of you have with physical intimacy,

but I don't want you to worry, you know.

I really do think we can get to the heart of the problem

so that you and he can enjoy

a much more stimulating, healthy, sexual relationship.

Thank you.

Great.

The head shrink

has only been here six years.

For some reason, they didn't get on

with the one who was here at the time... McCormack?

Curtis McCormack, the only member of staff to have left.

Well, they must've had a falling out, or something,

but, apparently, he is into money.

- Right, well, he's next on the list, then.

We'd better go.

Yeah. Oh, listen... I brought in with me

booze, fags,

and a mobile phone, easily.

So the next time you come, you couldn't bring me

something to drink, could you? I've run out.

Perhaps after we've solved our problems of

"physical intimacy"... What do you think?

Ooh!

Oh.

- Look, Jack, just a couple of cans of beer, you know.

I was going to tell you, love.

You see, the thing is, a bloke died here.

I trusted you!

You asked me and I said no. - Esther...

- Brian, I can't trust, I know that,

but, at least, he's got some excuse,

he's just a... A hopeless addict!

- No, Es-Esther.

Esther!...Esther!

Ohh.

Esther, please listen!

- I can't believe it! I can't believe that you would do this.

It isn't like that, Esther.

Look, it was Brian who found out about the case.

And, when he phoned me, I knew he was just trying

to use it to avoid treatment,

so the only way we could stop him from being involved

was to parachute one of us in here.

Esther, if this doesn't work, if Brian doesn't stick it out,

then the Met will probably retire him permanently.

And it doesn't occur to you that,

after all that's happened, that might be quite a good thing?

No, absolutely not! And I don't believe you think that, either.

I know he hadn't touched a drop

for years, until...

Yeah.

Yeah, I know we let him down and I'm sorry about that.

But he's trying really hard, Esther,

and you know he's never going to stick this out without you,

never mind the clinic.

I mean, do you really want him back home,

all day, every day, 24/7?

As I understand it,

the union is only part-funding Brian's treatment here.

The rest of the money

is coming from some anonymous source.

God, look at them.

What a crew.

Miss Pullman?

- Detective Superintendent.

- Please.

- Thank you. - Denise wasn't sure

whether your visit was personal or professional.

- Purely professional, thankfully.

I'm reinvestigating the death of Robert Smith

at the Trinity Clinic in 2000.

Oh, right.

You were a clinical psychiatrist there at the time.

- Yes, I was.

- Now, we know that Trinity have always operated

an addiction treatment program and, then, as now,

don't use drugs to help patients tackle their problems

and, yet, Robert Smith was found to have methadone in his body.

How could that have happened?

Well, as I said, at the time, I really don't know.

Can I ask, purely out of interest,

why did you leave the clinic in, what was it, 2003?

I was starting to establish my own practice.

I felt it was time to move on.

More money?

Yes, partly, but, um,

I'd also begun to develop my own theories

about the way addicts should be treated.

Such as...?

- Yes, substance substitution therapy.

- Now, I take it, from the explanation given here,

that that involves exchanging the addict's poison of choice

for other drugs... Methadone, for example.

Sometimes, yes.

So, although, you didn't use that kind of treatment

at Trinity, you're happy to do so now?

Well, clearly. - And I can't help but wonder

whether you felt that method should've been used back then.

The question doesn't arise.

They didn't and they don't.

Now,

unless you've got any more questions, are we done?

For now.

Gerry, now that I've met her, I think it might be a good idea

to talk about you and your wife.

Right.

For example, when did you first feel the compulsion

to sleep with someone other than Sandra?

- Sandra?

I ask because it is your fourth marriage.

I sense a pattern here.

You're married, you meet someone else,

have an affair,

you get divorced.

I mean, what about your wives?

Do you ever ask yourself what they think?

No need... They tell me, soon enough.

Do you want to see them?

Three wives, four daughters.

Don't you mean four wives?

Well, yeah, four, now, yeah.

Well, maybe that's the problem.

All these women, too much estrogen.

I doubt it. It does strike me, though.

No sign of Sandra.

No. Not in this one, no, no.

On the other hand, there's no sign of your husband.

I'm not married. Just a son.

Yeah. Just the one?

You don't know how lucky you are.

How old?

Eight.

- Handsome little bloke, ain't he?

What's his name?

We're here to talk about you, Gerry.

Ha.

Pullman's phone.

Your voice has changed.

Yes, very funny. Sandra's driving.

We're on our way to see you.

Good. Now, Do you remember Anna Greening, my therapist?

I can hear you. And, yes, I do.

Well, she's a single mum with an 8-year-old son.

And?

Well, I dunno, it might be me, it might just be a coincidence,

but I've just seen a picture of the kid and,

well, I think he looks just like Rob Smith.

Same eyes, mouth, and the timescale's right.

Really?

Interesting, eh?

So's McCormack.

Gerry?

Gerry? Gerry?!

The signal's gone.

- Well, I'm sorry.

I just had to talk to her. The wife.

I needed that feminine touch. You know what I mean.

- No.

Oh! Sorry.

- You did that on purpose!

- Rules are not made to be broken. Understand?

Brother Raymond has just informed me

of your husband's illicit use of a mobile phone,

plus the fact that he's here under false pretenses,

along with, I dare say, his colleague,

Mr. Lane.

This is not just a clinic, it's a sacred place,

and you have both abused

its sanctity.

I think it best you each collect your things and leave.

Let's not be hasty.

First, I need to know about Curtis McCormack.

What? - Specifically, why did he leave?

- I've no intention of discussing the workings

of this clinic with you.

Det Supt Pullman.

Now, we can either talk here, informally,

or back at the station, under caution... your choice.

This is outrageous.

Father Bernard, Mr. Standing was able

to smuggle into this clinic not just a phone,

but also beer and cigarettes, which suggests

that bringing in methadone would've been child's play.

In which case, all I can say is

that your working methods are beneath contempt.

Thank you very much. - Please,

just answer the question: why did McCormack leave?

We had a difference of opinion.

- About the use of methadone?

Yes.

But this has nothing to do with the death of Robert Smith.

It was three years later.

How do you know that he wasn't using methadone

all the time he was here?

- Esther's here.

Right. Mr. Standing will be

packing his bags, but, Brian, you're staying.

Absolutely not. - Whatever you may think,

Mr. Lane is not here under false pretenses.

I think it's probably better that I do leave.

I prefer the word "imperative."

- He's staying because he's responding well to treatment.

Do you understand?

And, if he doesn't, I know loads of journalists

who'll want to know the reason why.

Thank you.

That's Cameron.

We call this one Blair because she's

a compulsive "layer," Gerry says.

You're making jokes. Something must be working.

All right,

how's the case going?

You'd be going on and on about it,

if you were at home, so come on.

Well,

Rob Smith, the heroin addict who died here, broke his neck,

but he had methadone in his system,

even though they don't use palliative drugs here.

But the shrink who was working here at the time

now does use methadone in his work

and could've done then, but he may not have done.

But, if he did, then it might've been manslaughter,

or even murder, depending on whether or not

he was pushed down the stairs

when he was out of it on methadone.

But there doesn't seem to be any motive for the murder,

unless it involves something that happened to the dead bloke

during the three years he was abroad,

when we don't know where he was,

but that only works if someone here knew him in 2001

and also knew him back there, then,

when we don't know where he was back then.

But it means nothing.

If I'm not working,

if I'm not out there with them, doing this,

it means nothing, Esther.

- This is a beginning, Brian.

It's a beginning.

Thank you.

Two of you, this time. I must be getting important.

Mr. Standing, until recently, attended the Trinity Clinic.

- Congratulations on your recovery.

Undercover.

I beg your pardon.

- Father Bernard said that you clashed

over the use of methadone.

You don't deny it?

Father Bernard is on the side of the angels.

- In which case, it's a short step to suspect you of

giving Rob Smith the methadone which helped kill him.

- Oh, stop it!

I didn't give him any drugs.

The problem wasn't the methadone,

it was that Rob didn't get it in a controlled way.

That's probably why he lost it and fell down the stairs.

So you're saying he was given it deliberately, but not by you?

Right, someone gave it to him because they felt sorry for him,

because they could see that he was in pain

and they wanted to alleviate that pain.

It was well-meant, but misguided.

And who would've done that?

Somebody who loved him. - Natalie Joyner?

No, not her. You know who it is.

You knew, back then. - Of course.

Why didn't you say anything? - Because what good

would that have done, apart from ruin her career?

She already felt responsible for the death

of the man that she loved... She'd suffered enough.

- Hi. Is your mum in?

Anna, we're not here to judge.

We just want to know whether you had a relationship

that was... emotional, as well as professional.

With a heroin addict?

- By all accounts,

an incredibly charismatic heroin addict.

No. No, no, I didn't.

Anna, we've just spoken to Dr. McCormack.

He says you fell for Rob Smith very deeply.

Well, Curtis is wrong, then.

This is a copy of your son's birth certificate.

There's no name entered under "Father".

It's blank.

Now, you don't strike me as the kind of woman

who would not know who the father of her only child is.

Well, perhaps you're as bad a judge of character as I was.

- Anna, there's a very easy way

to find out whether you're telling us the truth or not.

Really, what's that?

Give your son a DNA test.

You can't do that.

Alen, baby, go back to your room.

He doesn't...

He doesn't know.

Please. Oh, God!

Anna.

Anna, come on, talk to us.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I mean, suddenly, just hopelessly?

I thought it was a fantasy.

It isn't. I couldn't help it.

Twelve days, that's all I got.

Did you give Rob the methadone?

- He never knew. I mixed it in his coffee.

I couldn't bear it. He was in so much pain.

Not just the withdrawal, the physical pain,

but all the emotional, psychological torment

in the horror he had bottled up.

"Horror"?

- I don't know what it was... All he said was

how ashamed he was of letting his family down.

When he died,

honestly, I nearly died as well,

knowing I was responsible.

I decided

to confess, you know?

But you didn't.

- The same day I made up my mind,

I found out I was pregnant.

Brother Mark would've said it was a sign,

a blessing.

I was... I was so afraid for Alen.

I was just so afraid he'd be born in prison

and taken away from me, put into care.

I doubt very much that would've happened.

Alen is all I have.

I wasn't going to take that risk.

"Alen"?

Well, I couldn't very well call him Rob, could I?

So I named him after his brother.

No, no, no it's just the way you pronounce it, "Ah-LENN".

It's a family name, from Rob's mother's side.

It's how you pronounce it in Serbo-Croat.

Rob's mother was from Yugoslavia.

Brother Mark.

I need help.

- Please.

This is very hard for you,

to come here, to a place like this, through shame.

Guilt, shame,

and betrayal,

you feel all these.

I don't need you to respond. I need you only to understand.

I don't...

I can't believe in religion.

I'm not asking you to become a religious man, Brian,

I'm asking you to be a spiritual one.

Tell me, what happened?

How did you become afraid?

Ohhh.

A man died.

I was responsible

for a young man dying.

He was in my care.

I see.

Well, that is a reality

and none of us can bear too much reality.

The simple truth is that you failed,

as we all fail.

The young man is gone, Brian.

He will not come back.

You are here.

Live. Make that life worthwhile.

Here.

Is it the Bible?

No. Santayana.

I think you would appreciate him.

Where was your wife born, Mr. Smith?

Christina? Yugoslavia.

Whereabouts, specifically?

- Sladjanska. It's there.

It's in Croatia, now.

- Born and brought up. It's very pretty.

It's where she always wanted to be buried.

Although we actually met here,

in Hammersmith, in the '70s.

She was working as an au pair.

What was her maiden name? - Brancovic.

Now, this may seem an odd question,

but was Christina proud of where she came from?

Croatia? Oh, yes.

Did she ever

teach you and your brother any Croatian?

Yeah, a little.

You said that Rob told you that he was going somewhere

to do something that would make his mother proud.

Yeah, why?

Well, he left the UK in '92

and came back some time late in '95, we think.

He claimed that he'd lost his passport,

but we believe that he got rid of it on purpose.

Now '92 to '95 was

the height of the Yugoslavian civil war

and we think that Rob may have been involved, somehow,

and that might have a link to his death back here.

That's impossible. Well...

He wasn't that kind of person.

You didn't know him.

No. But, then, the person you knew

didn't take heroin, either.

While Strickland's been doing his diplomatic thing,

I've been checking out the staff

who were at the clinic when Rob Smith died,

just to find out where they were between '92 and '95, right?

Now, Father Bernard

and Curtis McCormack were at the clinic.

Anna Greening was finishing a PhD at Nottingham.

But I find this interesting...

Brother Raymond didn't arrive in England

until '97; and Mark, '98.

What, they're both foreign? - Well, where are they from?

Well, exactly... we don't know.

Sir, any joy?

- I'm not sure that "joy" is the correct word,

but, yeah, you were right.

The Croatian Embassy confirmed that they have

a Robert Smith on record as having enlisted in the army

of the Republika Hrvatska on September 6, 1992.

They also saw fit, albeit reluctantly, to send us this.

That is Rob Smith...

At the time, part of a Croatian paramilitary group

called the Iron Hawks,

at least some of whom did this...

Oh.

- Oh, my God!

Quite.

Bloody hell!

What is it?

Well, we think there's a possibility

it's one of these two, who might have known Smith in the past,

but I don't see anyone here who looks like either of them.

Oh, well, this is just a small section of the unit.

Unfortunately, being a paramilitary group,

the record of who was who in the Iron Hawks

is pretty sketchy; the good news is that

there are fingerprint records for some of these people.

Result! Let's go.

No, no, hang on, if we go rushing in

to the clinic, we'll just spook 'em.

And, of course, we don't want Brian involved.

But Brother Raymond did that.

What about Brother Mark?

"Those who cannot remember the past

are condemned to repeat it."

Sound familiar?

Who is that?

- It's Santayana.

- What, the musician?

Not Santana, Santayana.

Oh. - He was a philosopher.

Reading this book changed Brother Mark's life.

Ooh!

I thought I'd turned this off.

Hello? Oh.

Um, Well...

I'll try.

Can I call you back?

What was all that about?

Oh, it's nothing.

Really good, that book, isn't it?

Amazing, really.

Oh, hi.

How'd you get on?

I, um...

I put it in this to avoid the danger

of cross-contamination.

That's right, isn't it?

Yes. Thank you.

You didn't mind doing this, did you? Only, I could've...

No, I rather liked it.

I got to lie to Brian.

Hello?

Det Supt Pullman.

Look, this really is too much.

This isn't a courtesy call. Just open the gates.

We now have documented proof that Robert Smith

disappeared abroad to the former Yugoslavia

during 1992 to '95,

where he enlisted in the Croatian army.

This, of course, was during the Civil War there,

however, he eventually ended up

in an irregular paramilitary group known as the Iron Hawks.

- He then deserted,

round about November 1994, shortly after the Iron Hawks

were involved in a massacre in a place called... Kraljelina?

- Now, Smith would certainly have witnessed the atrocity,

and may even have been involved in it.

I don't understand.

This is appalling, but what's it got to do with this clinic?

- It's almost certainly

when Rob Smith started using drugs,

probably to try and block out the horror of it all.

- The original investigation never knew this,

which is why all sorts of questions were never asked,

questions such as "Where were you born?"

- Me? - Mmm.

Guernsey. Channel Islands.

And where were you between 1992 and '95?

In Belgium... Bruges...

Training as a therapist.

What about you, Brother Mark? Where were you at that time?

- I was a novice at the order's monastery

in Sainte Céline de la Croix, near Lyon.

- And before that?

Before that, I was a civilian.

- "Civilian"?

I was born and brought up in Slovenia.

Slovenia! Are you sure?

- I know where I was born and who I am.

Yeah, so did Robert Smith.

But, in his drug-addled state, he didn't recognize you.

But you recognized him.

And, because he'd served under you, in the same unit, you knew

it was only a matter of time before he did recognize you.

That's a fantasy.

No, "Mark" is a fantasy.

Rob Smith knew you by your real name, Marko,

Marko Stoipanovic,

former lecturer of modern languages at Zagreb.

My congratulations. Your English is impeccable.

No, you have me mixed up with someone completely different.

Is that what you said to Rob Smith the night he died,

the night he was given methadone?

- Resulting in him being drugged enough

for a man well-versed in killing

to be able to break his neck, throw him down the stairs,

and make it look like an accident.

This is not true. This is completely not true!

And you have no proof.

Unfortunately, you're absolutely right.

We have no proof that you killed Robert Smith.

But we do have your fingerprints.

Copies of which were forwarded

to the international war crimes tribunal

at The Hague.

They confirmed that the prints were those of Marko Stoipanovic,

wanted for crimes against humanity.

They even sent along an official photograph,

just for good measure.

God is love.

What's the matter?

Well, he said some incredible things.

He helped me.

He really helped me.

- Yeah? Well, come on,

get your gear together, time to get out of here.

No, I'm going to stay. Eh?

- I'm going to finish the treatment.

Okay.

And tell Esther

I want that book back.

♪ It's alright, it's okay ♪

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

♪ It's alright, I say, it's okay ♪

♪ listen to what I say ♪

♪ It's alright, doin' fine ♪

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

♪ It's alright, I say, it's okay ♪

♪ we're gettin' to the end of the day ♪ ♪

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