Original subtitles

Are you okay?

Just the smell.

Put a bit up your nose.

What?

Sounds like it wasn't planned.

- Iarla... - What?

Any chance of a lift to the shops? I need to get something for dinner.

- Sorry, I can't. - How come?

I just can't, right?

Jesus Christ, will you back off?

If he died of a heart attack, is it even a murder?

Given his leg has been chopped off,

might be best to keep investigating.

- Sure thing. - Mind you...

... it doesn't smack of hardened criminals carrying out a hit.

No. If he died of an overdose,

it was likely self-inflicted. Why try to get rid of the body?

If he was in the company of the people who broke him out,

they'd be handing themselves in by reporting it.

Boy racers?

Black widow.

You don't find it strange that you're Tara's alibi?

She knew Máirtín would be free sooner or later,

with the guilty plea.

So she broke him out of prison first?

Well, she couldn't have done it on her own

but she lives with one of the boy racers.

"Welcome to Part Three. Murder in the Bog."

"Long ago, there was a king in Donegal, who ruled by fear..."

- What? - What are those?

Aren't they wonderful?

It's like walking on air.

Great, but you know...

Those aren't police issue.

I only wear them around the station.

I could get you a pair, half price.

No, I'm alright-- why are they half price?

I've a friend who works for the company.

".. a one-eyed monster, called Balor of the Evil Eye.

Balor was the nickname given to Sabine's son,

Sergeant Conall Ó Súilleabháin."

"The story goes that he got that nickname

following a brutal attack on a referee

during a soccer match, when Conall saw red."

Well, young fella.

Can you stamp my passport application?

It's supposed to be someone who knows you.

- The Sergeant's in his office. - Sure you know me.

- Do I? - Yeah.

You stopped me for not having an NCT two weeks ago.

- What kind of car was it? - Subaru Impreza.

- What colour? - Electric Blue. - Two litre? - Yes.

- Body kit? - Yeah. - Nice motor.

I remember you now.

Go on then.

- Any chance you could speed it up? - What's the hurry?

Sure it'll take ten weeks to process.

Ten weeks?

For a first time application.

- When are you off on your holidays? - This week.

You've no chance.

- Where were you planning on going anyway? - Glasgow, maybe.

- Is this a wind up? - No.

You don't need a passport to travel to Scotland.

You eejit. Your driver's license will do.

Hey, you forgot your form.

Everyone's in a hurry nowadays.

"Is Balor capable of murder?"

That was a nice speech.

You should come on my podcast to discuss it.

What do you really want?

- Did you mean what you said? - Of course I did.

Good.

Then you won't mind searching for Art Ó Súilleabháin

in every care home in the UK.

- Art's dead. - Not yet, he's not.

The Coroner is waiting on medical records that don't exist.

Art didn't have dementia.

He used it to his advantage.

All he needed was someone close to him

who knew how to throw the Gardaí off his scent.

No, Conall would never--

Wouldn't he?

Abandoning his car in the bog, yet no body has been found.

What makes you think Art is in a care home?

Better to see out his days

in the comfort of a care home than in a prison cell.

What if Conall drove Art to the boat in Larne

and now he's holed up in the UK?

We don't have the resources to check every care home in the UK.

What was it you said about 'uncomfortable truths'?

It would be a shame if all your good work here

was to go to waste

because it got out that you planted evidence

to frame an innocent man for the murder of your lover.

Ray Lipsett wasn't innocent.

We'll never know,

since you ordered his execution.

Alright.

I'll check the nursing homes.

Great.

I'll do the talking. You're compromised.

Feel free to show me your good cop routine.

You still think I was involved?

Just going my job.

Everyone's a suspect, until they aren't.

Conall...

Are you alright?

If I tell you something,

does she have to know?

She's my partner.

But it depends what it is.

I think Iarla's in trouble.

- Why's that? - He's not sleeping.

I hear him rattling about at all hours.

I asked him for a lift this morning and he freaked out.

He took off and hasn't been back.

Do you think he's involved in all this?

No.

Iarla was going to testify,

and then Máirtín changed his plea.

You know what they do to touts.

He wouldn't have it in him to murder anyone.

Tell Iarla to call me on my mobile.

If he's in trouble, I can help.

What the...

- Another ex? - Tara?

No, Tara is not an ex.

Tara is my ex Annemarie's best friend.

So, did you break this Annemarie's heart?

Or did she break yours?

Something like that.

Anyways...

Hiya. Nice trainers.

Barry, I need to talk to you.

You can't just come in for a chat. I've a station to run.

This is not a chat, this is serious police business

and you are a serious police officer.

Fine.

What is it?

I think Conall helped his father to escape

before he had to face trial for his heinous crimes.

I have Patsy looking into care homes in the UK.

- Nonsense. - No.

I spoke to a doctor who says someone with dementia

is more likely to leave their keys in the car, so--

Why are you speaking to a doctor about this?

Someone has to.

You want me to stop digging into your buddy's past?

No. It's an ongoing investigation.

- Are you trying to cover for Conall? - No.

Good. He treats you like shit anyway.

- No, he doesn't. - Yes, he does.

So... you've checked Conall's phone records?

- Why? - To track him.

See if he could have cooked up this cover-up.

I found his mother's body in that bog, for crying out loud.

You accused Conall of her death, now this?

Everyone's a suspect until they're not, Barry.

Isn't that the first thing they teach you at Garda college?

No. It's the Garda decision making model.

That's the first thing.

Think of it this way.

If you got Conall's phone records

it might prove his innocence.

Ciara-Kate, this is ridiculous.

It would take four hours to drive to the ferry in Larne.

Eight-hour round trip.

You need to go.

Check his phone records.

If Conall's clean, I'll drop it.

Let me know if you hear anything.

No, I won't. That's not how this works.

I'll see you later.

Young love.

What? No. We're not... I have a girlfriend.

The AI one?

She's not AI, Neilí.

She's real.

Just read the Coroner's report.

Overdose. Didn't see that coming.

Neither did Máirtín, by the looks of it.

Is it still a murder investigation?

It's a suspicious death. So, yeah.

Someone did try to dispose of his body, Barry.

Which they made a mess of.

It doesn't suggest hardened criminals to me.

I didn't realise you were all back.

We walked past you on the way in.

Someone called for you about an hour ago. Didn't leave a name.

But they said you'd want to know

there's a rally organised at the quarry this evening.

That's where Iarla will be.

We'll head out there now, stop this rally before it begins.

- Get your boots on. - No. Better to let it happen.

It'll give us a chance to gather intelligence on the boy racers.

We'll head there in the unmarked car. We don't want to scare them off.

Be on hand though, to back us up.

So this is where the rally takes place.

It's called Diffing.

You were a car boy, were you?

Still am.

That's what happened you, the fumes affected your brain.

I realise there's nothing to do around here,

but this is a bit...

... different.

Says the townie.

Iarla's car is here.

Let's go down there.

Iarla...

- Where is he? - Who? - Iarla.

- I've no idea. - This is his car.

Not any more. I bought it off him this morning.

I swear. I have the logbook and everything.

Gardaí!

It's the Gardaí.

Why would Iarla sell his car?

Burnouts.

Burnouts everybody. Burn the fucking tyres!

Give me my keys back.

Stop.

Barry, can you come to the quarry. Come quickly.

On our way.

Sharpen up, will you?

Stop.

Where's your paedo father?

Stop, Conall.

- He's not worth it. - That's enough, Conall.

He needs to be arrested for hitting a Garda with his car.

Come on, up you get.

So this is...

This is the Curlew Hotel.

When you said go for a drink,

I thought you meant a nice bar.

This is where the bar was.

I suppose, you have to go somewhere.

when all the town hates you.

How's the arm?

I'll be grand.

You alright?

Thanks for getting us out of trouble back there.

Not sure I'm made out for...

... what do you call it? Soft-touch policing.

Maybe there's a happy medium.

Maybe.

That's why we make a good team.

We're good partners.

I didn't know you were stationed here.

Came here last year, haven't looked back since.

- You're a Sergeant now I see. - Yeah, I am.

You've come a long way from the Garda College.

Ah well, you know... oh, shit!

What can I do for you?

I was told you handle phone records?

The Coroner has requested one for a murder we're looking into.

No bother. Have you got the court order with you?

The court order?

Not with me.

Sorry, I left it at the station.

No bother.

I had to make an arrest, that's why I'm here.

Grand. Sure you can email it to me.

Or is it still a fax machine where you are?

Ah, very good.

I'll fax it to you.

Or a messenger pigeon.

No, I'll email it.

'.. at which point Detective Ó Súilleabháin

took preventative measures...

... to stop the vehicle...

in a justified...

and proportionate manner.'

'In a justified and proportionate manner.'

'In a justified...'

Does nothing work in this place?

Any idea where I could get a pen around here?

Try Neilí's desk.

He's probably used the same one since he left the Garda college.

"Hey, this is Iarla, don't leave a message, I won't listen to it."

Iarla, it's Conall.

I know you're in trouble, just call me, I can help you.

That's great, keep me updated.

Iarla has booked himself two different flights to Glasgow.

One from Donegal and the other from Derry.

Flight?

I've had him alerted. He's on the run.

- I don't think he's running from us. - But he is running.

Alright. I'll go to Derry, you take the airport in Carrickfinn?

- Oh, Conall... - What is it?

I know you're close to Iarla.

But he's key to this.

If you don't trust me, you go to Derry.

I do trust you.

- Okay. - I'll take my own car.

Good man.

I didn't make it. He's gone.

How did you know where to find me?

Did you not think I'd remember you're scared of flying?

Come on, give me that bag.

What is it?

You were right about Conall.

He beat the crap out of a lad yesterday, couldn't control himself.

Living up to his nickname.

If he can do that sort of thing then maybe he could...

Kill his own father.

Maybe.

Anyway...

I did what you said.

I got Conall's phone records.

The day Art's car was left at the bog, Conall's phone went dark.

- It was turned off. - Why would he do that unless--

He didn't want to be tracked.

How long was it off for?

Eight hours.

Eight hours?

From here to the ferry terminal and back.

I knew it.

We've got him.

You're amazing.

I'm dead... I'm fucking dead.

- You'll be fine. - I'm fucked.

- Iarla, take it easy. - Conall, you don't get it.

I'm absolutely fucked.

If they find me, I'm absolutely fucked.

Do you hear me?

We'll go in the back door.

So, what's going on?

Things are bad, Conall.

Really bad.

This is brilliant. You can take him.

Conall's not a phone guy.

He's not even on social media.

We just need to find more evidence.

Don't give up on me now, Barry.

You have to go get him, he won't come to you.

We can prove his phone was turned off.

- You have to confront him. - And I will.

Tomorrow.

No more Mister Nice Guy.

Oh God...

That is so hot.

Say it again.

What... ?

- No more Mister Nice Guy! - No, not like that.

Wait...

You know what happened Máirtín?

Were you involved?

Iarla, just tell me... was it you who killed him?

No, it wasn't me. I swear.

I can't help you unless you tell me what happened.

I didn't have any choice.

These people are mental.

They'd have killed me, if I didn't help them.

But now they're going to kill me anyway, to shut me up.

They? Who are they?

Listen Conall, I'd no idea...

... things would get out of hand.

I thought it was just a party,

a few drinks, that's all.

A party?

- Were there drugs? - No.

- Who killed him? - No one killed him.

It was an accident, the next morning.

- He has to go. - Go where?

Go.

Will we do it now?

While he's sleeping.

Come on.

'Why didn't you run?'

'He took my keys.'

Did he shit himself?

Hey, what are you doing?

He's dead.

Happy days.

- Who cut the leg off? - I don't know.

Who cut his leg off, was it you?

'No.'

Here you are.

'It was Aodh. He tried to get me to help him

but I told him to fuck off.'

- What's this for? - What do you think?

- Chopping him up. - Here?

What did we put the plastic sheeting on the floor for?

- I don't know, footprints. - Footprints...

Listen, I've never done this before, right?

- Neither have I. - Where do I even start?

- The leg. - Which leg?

I don't know... the right leg, Iarla.

Why the right leg?

The fucking left leg then.

But he was left-footed.

Jesus Christ, just chop him up to fuck, would ya?

Now.

- 'Why didn't you call the Gardaí?' - 'And tell them what?'

'That there was a fugitive lying dead in front of me,

from a drug overdose?'

I thought you said there were no drugs? Who else was there?

Who else was there?

- Just me and Aodh. - And...? - Máirtín.

- But he was... - Dead?

So tell me this...

Aodh cut off Máirtín's leg. What happened then?

It took too long to cut him up,

so... we got rid of the body.

At sea.

Where did you get the boat?

We rented one.

Rented one? You, Aodh and Máirtín Ó Tuairisc's dead body.

Where did you get the boat?

Was it Aodh's boat... was it his boat?

No. Aodh's just a minion. Like me.

So who gives the orders?

Who gives the orders?

Who's behind it, Iarla?

Joe Lipsett.

Welcome back to the show. Drink your Cupán Joe.

If like me, you're going vegan this month,

well, I'm using our delicious, locally-sourced seaweed.

It's so easy to make. Into the pan it goes...

Listen to that, it's wild.

Now, let's add a few flavours.

Maybe a little garlic, I love ginger too.

And some lemon juice.

And that's it.

Plate it up... wild and natural.

I'll see you on the next video.

And don't forget, drink your Cupán Joe.

See you later.

Go on, that's it.

Fucking kill him.