All language subtitles for ripper

Anyone gets curious,
move them along.

We don't want her
drawing a crowd.

Inspector Rees?

Yes?

Sebastian Stubb, of
the London Morning Times.

Ah, yes, of course.

Anything you can
share with our readers

about the incident?

I doubt your readers would
be very interested, Mr.Stubb.

Oh well, with all
due respect sir,

I think I'll be
the judge of that.

Lone woman.

Knife wound.

Probably a robbery gone
awry some time in the night.

Dear, oh dear,
oh dear Inspector,

you'll never make a
headline writer will you?

What about "mysterious assailant"

slashes wench-woman's throat
in bloody midnight attack".

That's conjecture.

Time of death is yet
to be established.

All right.

What about "bloody
night time attack" then?

It's reasonable enough.

Now I really must be going.

Oh, can I quote you Inspector?

If you must.

Who told you her
throat was slashed?

Well, it always pays to be early

on the scene, Inspector.

Morning, Mr Locque.

Inspector Rees sends
his regards, sir.

What else?

Oh, it's a young woman.

Found down the dark end of a
dark alley in the early hours.

No prizes for guessing what
she was up to down there.

Well, we'll find
out shortly, won't we?

There's always a
trace left behind.

Well, that depends,

on whether she swallowed
or spat, doesn't it?

There is always a trace, Dodd.

You would do well
to remember that.

What are they saying
is the cause of death?

Cut throat, sir.

Have a look.

Now, he was saying, it looked
like some fellow had got

what he wanted but
didn't wanna pay.

He probably had a
penknife in his pocket,

there was a scuffle, and
he, er, let her have it.

What?

The penknife.

In the throat, like.

It's a very sharp
penknife if it was.

Yeah well, they
are, aren't they?

Not usually.

Not this sharp.

If a man carries a penknife

he uses it for all sorts
of tasks, sawing rope,

digging stones from
horses' hooves, anything.

The blade ends up
damaged and blunt,

with the result being that
penknife cuts are usually jagged,

with lots of damage to
the surrounding skin.

This one is very clean, it's
made with a good quality blade.

A knife's a knife.

I'm trying to teach
you something here, Dodd.

It would be good if you
could show some ambition

to better yourself.

You don't wanna be pushing
cadavers round in here

all your life.

No, sir.

But I don't wanna be
slicing them up, neither.

Wait!

Death by cut
throat, did you say?

That's what he said, sir.

Then what is that?

Jesus Christ!

Well I shall tell you one thing,

this was no scuffle over a coin.

It's a bit early,
what are you after?

A quick word with
the lady of the house,

if you'd be so kind.

Miss Levine?

If you'd be so kind.

Well, I'll ask her-

- Tell her it's Ins,

Tell her it's Edmund Rees.

Some tea, Inspector?

That would be very nice.

It's been a long time

since you've darkened
my doorstep, Edmund.

You have a knack of
making every phrase

sound like a
euphemism, Miss Levine.

What, "darkened my doorstep"?

Never heard it called that.

I've heard it called a lot of
things but that's a new one.

Can you guess what
brought me here today?

Yes, I can guess.

So you know what
I'm going to ask?

That girl they
found in the night.

Not far from here wasn't it?

Two streets down.

It's getting more dangerous
by the hour out there.

Can't you do something about it?

Do you know who she was?

I do.

One of the girls from here
was the one that found her.

Came running back and
told me all about it.

I'd like to speak to her.

I don't think she'd
like to speak to you.

You wouldn't have got
past the door if Sally

had known who you were.

Did she recognize the victim?

Yes.

Polly Neilson was
her name, I knew her.

Had she ever worked here before?

No, but not for want of trying.

They all come here
onetime or another.

I mean, wouldn't you
rather ply your trade

against a soft pillow
than a cold wall?

But I couldn't help her.

No experience.

So she was knew to it, then?

Oh yes.

Fallen on hard
times, as they say.

She'd been a maid for a
gentleman in a big house.

Very proud of that, she was.

Gave me his card as proof.

Let's see, I've
got it somewhere.

This lady, Polly Neilson, she
was definitely in the trade?

I should say so.

Unless she found some other
way of earning a living

in a dark alleyway in
the middle of the night.

The girl that found her,
she didn't see anything else,

anything suspicious,
somebody running away?

Not that she told me.

Very well.

At least we've got a
name, Polly Neilson.

Not staying for another tea?

Er, no thank you,

it's better if I wasn't seen
spending too much time here.

Oh, shame.

There's nothing better
than something wet

and warm on a cold
day, Inspector.

As my dear late
husband used to say.

I'll see myself out.

I asked upstairs but the
Inspector's out on his rounds.

Never mind.

I'll have more to tell him
by the time he gets back.

Any news?

News?

On the murder.

Everyone's asking about it.

Oh, before you sit down,
sir, that lad from the morgue

came looking for you earlier.

Said the Medical
Examiner wanted a word.

Locque?

Ah, Inspector.

You got my message, I take it?

Er, shame about
the circumstances.

Indeed.

Though I can't think of
any other circumstances

in which we are
ever likely to meet.

A drink some time, perhaps?

Er, no, no thank you, I don't.

So what's this
about the young lady?

Dodd said something
to my colleague

about an abominable injury?

Abdominal.

An abdominal injury.

What sort of thing
are we talking about?

Well, it might be better
if you saw it for yourself.

Christ in heaven!

Dodd had it about right.

What would motivate a man
to do something like this?

It's not for me to delve
into motives, Inspector.

That's your department.

I've never seen
anything like this.

Nor have I.

Elizabeth?

Straight to the
book cabinet, Thomas?

I sometimes wonder if you
care more for those books

than you do for me?

Not at all, I, I just
wanted to return this.

I know you're curious
about my work, Elizabeth,

but it really is no
subject for a lady.

I was bored.

Reading helps to pass the time.

Did you know that the
human tongue is made up

of eight separate
interwoven muscles?

I'm sure there must
be more edifying things

to read about the house.

Or things to do?

Say what you will, Elizabeth.

I'd certainly miss Emily if
we had to do without her.

I'm sure you would.

I meant her cooking.

That was an
excellent roast beef.

It was just missing a
glass of good red wine

to go along with it.

I'll not enter into that
debate with you again, Thomas.

No, I only meant-

- I'll not have any drink in
this house until you've proved

you're capable of controlling
your urge to overindulge.

That was all a long
time ago, Elizabeth.

I told you, I'm
not discussing it.

How can I prove I
can control my urges

when there's nothing in the
house to bloody-well drink!

Well.

I think you've just
proved the very opposite.

Ah, Stubb.

Just been reading your story
in this morning's paper.

I do not appreciate my
name being mentioned.

Well, you said I could
quote you, Inspector.

Well?

What can I do for you this time?

It's more what I can
do for you, Inspector.

What's this?

A confession.

What are you confessing to?

It's not from me!

It's from the
killer of that girl.

Where did you get it from?

It was sent to me
personally, via the newspaper.

Probably some disturbed
person's idea of a joke.

Seems authentic
to me, Inspector.

Let me see it.

I thought we could come to
some kind of an arrangement.

What do you mean?

Well, I've got the
killer's side of the story.

I just need the copper's.

I'd make it a big
two-parter, you know,

front page with a
big illustration

of the killer
standing over the body

with a knife in his hand and-

- Just give me
the bloody letter.

Red ink, seems like a gimmick.

Well, it wouldn't
be the first time

that a killer's been
attracted to the idea

of gaining notoriety
now Inspector, would it?

And that would explain
why he send it directly

to a newspaper, as
opposed to yourself.

Oh, and, er, he's given
himself a little trade name.

"Jack the Ripper".

It's good, isn't it?

Better than anything I
could've ever come up with.

Oh, and, er, he goes over
everything he did to that girl,

in great detail.

This is obscene.

If you publish any of
this, you're a damn fool.

Report on Polly
Neilson, is it ready?

Yes, I finished
with her yesterday,

the report's been sat
on my desk all night.

Just give me the highlights,
I need to check on something.

Well, the cause of death,
as you correctly surmised,

was two deep cuts to the
throat, one of which completely

severed all of the tissue
down to the vertebrae.

That's the spinal
column, Inspector.

What about the other injuries?

Well, there are
several small stab wounds

and two very deep ones,

one particularly so leading
to a breach of the bowel.

And a very large
concentration of damage

to the interior of the abdomen.

When you say the, er, abdomen.

Yes?

A gentleman has an abdomen,

but a gentleman
doesn't have a, er-

- The injuries are
specific to that part

of a woman's abdomen
which differentiates

it to that of a gentleman's.

I made fully detailed
notes, in my report.

No, leave that here.

I want to keep the details
of this between ourselves

at the moment.

This type of crime tends to
attract a lot of attention.

I've already had a reporter
in my office this morning.

I understand.

Funny thing is
he had this letter,

supposedly from the killer.

Yes?

Thought it was a lot of
nonsense, a silly practical joke,

but the description of
the injuries was bang on.

A lot of people could
have seen the body

before you got there.

Even the internal wounds?

Sorry, sir, but it's urgent.

What is it?

They've found another one.

Another what?

A girl, sir.

Keep a close guard on her
'till the carriage gets here.

I don't want anybody
touching the body

till we get it to
the medical examiner.

Her name was Mary Anne Keates.

You seem very well
informed, Stubb.

I just ask around,
Inspector, that's all.

Thought you might have
read it in a letter.

You never know,
Inspector, you never know.

But, if I do get another one,

you'll be the first to know.

I will?

You will, if we can come
to some kind of arrangement.

Otherwise, like everyone else,

you can read it on the front
page of the Morning Times.

Have a care, Dodd.

What's the matter?

She's dead, isn't she?

She ain't gonna be
complaining about the service.

I have to accurately
ascertain the cause of death.

If you throw her from the
trolley and break her neck,

how will I know if the damage
was done pre or post-mortem?

Yeah, well, the, er,
cause of death's no mystery

with this one.

It's a cut throat once again.

Yeah.

And the rest.

You've already examined her?

I had a good look, yeah.

When I took her dress off.

So, you're finally taking
an interest in your work?

Only the pretty ones.

So she's the same
as the previous one?

No.

She's worse.

Miss Levine, please, now.

Not that I don't appreciate
your visits, Edmund,

but you could try to be
a bit more circumspect.

Almost knocking the door
down in broad daylight?

This is a very serious matter.

It's become apparent
that the murders

have a particular edge to them.

The, er, perpetrator seems to
be taking a certain pleasure

in the act of violence.

And what light are you
expected me to shed on this?

Well it's occurred to
me you might have acquired

a substantial knowledge,
over the years,

of the preferences
of a large number

of the gentlemen in the area.

Do any of your regulars like
to get rough with girls?

Hit them, cut them,
that sort of thing?

It happens.

But they don't stay
regulars very long

once I get to hear about it.

To be frank, Inspector,

it's far more common
the other way round.

The other way round?

Oh yes, there's plenty of them

that come here for
a bit of abuse.

Doctors, lawyers, judges.

We've got a special room for it.

Would you like to see it?

I'm sorry I can't help
you any further, Edmund.

You mentioned a gentleman's card

you were gonna give me.

Yes, I'm sure
it's here somewhere.

Never mind, I'm
sure it'll show up.

There was one other
thing, Inspector.

Some awful man came knocking
on the door this morning

claiming to be from the
Whitechapel Vigilance Committee.

Accused me of living
off immoral earnings.

He's not entirely
inaccurate then, is he?

You know this building's
all my dear late husband

left me with to eke out a
living in my autumn years.

Remind me, what
did he die of again?

Misbehavior.

There seems to be
a lot of it about.

Inspector Rees?

Yes.

What can I do for you?

I suppose you've seen this?

The newspaper?

This!

These appalling murders.

Murders?

The newspaper only mentions one.

I heard from my carriage
driver on the way here

that a second body
had been discovered.

Word travels fast.

Yes, a lot faster than you
it would seem, Inspector.

Excuse me, sir, may I ask-

- Doctor George Lowry.

Head of the Whitechapel
Vigilance Committee.

It's simply not good
enough, Inspector.

I've been a resident of
Whitechapel for over 60 years,

man and boy.

Ran a highly regarded
medical practice

until my retirement last year.

This used to be a decent,
God-fearing community.

Now look at it.

Once can scarce set foot
outside one's own front

door without being accosted
by some filthy rag-seller.

Or being propositioned by,
well, by the likes of this girl.

And as if that wasn't enough,

now we have some foreign
butcher committing acts

of such atrocity-

- Foreign butcher?

Well, wouldn't you
say so, Inspector?

I can't imagine a true
Englishman sinking to the level

of such depravity.

Do your job properly, Inspector,
and I am sure you will find

the dark hand of some
Persian or an Oriental

is behind all this.

Be that as it may, there has
indeed been a second murder.

So my next step is to
establish what connects

the two events-

- Spare me the procedural
recitation, Inspector.

The Whitechapel Vigilance
Committee are well-versed

in matters of law and order.

Some of our members
are retired judges.

Our patron is none other than
your very own Chief Inspector.

Answer me this,

do you have any suspect
in mind for these crimes?

No.

Then what the devil are
you doing sat behind a desk

talking to me?

Get out there, man.

Do your job, knock
on some doors.

I can list you a dozen streets

where you will
find meat vendors,

and animal slaughterers,
and tanners.

And not one of
them an Englishman.

Thank you, Dr Lowry,
that won't be necessary.

And if you do nothing else,

can you not, at the very least,

put an end to these
frightful newspaper stories?

It's bad enough.

We have a murderer
on our streets

without the gruesome
details being spread far

and wide for the general
populace to gossip about.

I will not have the good name

of Whitechapel
besmirched any further.

Good day to you, inspector.

Elizabeth?

In here.

What's all this?

I've made your dinner, Thomas.

You have?

What about Emily?

Is it such a surprise?

I'm perfectly capable, Thomas.

Remember when we
were first married?

There were no housemaids then.

I remember it well.

Wine, that is a surprise.

I felt badly about
what I said yesterday.

Don't let your meal get cold.

Are you not joining me?

I had something earlier.

This is all about you.

I made your favorite.

Steak and kidney.

Mmm, it's excellent, Elizabeth.

You know, Thomas, wine
isn't the only thing

we've gone without
these past years.

Perhaps tonight could be
something of a, a new beginning?

There, I knew we
could do without.

Without what?

Without Emily.

Well, for a night, yes.

Did you give her the day off?

I gave her every day off.

I told her to seek a new
position with immediate effect.

You did what?

Don't make a fuss, Thomas.

Make a fuss?

I'm the head of this
household, Elizabeth.

You should have consulted me

before making a
decision like that.

Head of the household?

But I'm the one who's here
all the time, you're not.

No, Elizabeth.

I'll not have this.

You must find her
and ask her back.

With an apology if necessary.

You'd have your own
wife go begging to a maid?

Well I'm sure that won't
be necessary, I just-

- I wonder which one of us
is more important to you?

What's that supposed to mean?

You've a wandering eye, Thomas.

Don't think I haven't noticed.

I've never laid a hand on Emily!

I'd know if you had.

Believe me.

I know you.

Perhaps better than you think,

remember that.

Have you seen this?

Stubb's published another
letter from the Ripper.

Details of the case
I didn't even know.

There's got to be something
we can charge him with.

Aiding and abetting, sir?

That's going a bit far.

As far as we know at the moment.

Our friend Dr Lowry's
not gonna be happy

when he sees this, and
he claims to have the ear

of the Chief Inspector.

I wouldn't worry, sir.

Chief Inspector's out
of town, family wedding.

Come on, Locque, where are you?

Inspector?

I was just, er-

- We don't leave cadavers
out over night, Inspector.

But you do leave
the door unlocked?

Not usually.

I was running a bit
late this morning.

Perhaps it was Dodd,
he has the other key.

What can I do for
you, Inspector?

Report on the
second Ripper victim,

is it ready yet?

Yes, it's on my desk.

I couldn't see it.

Never mind, just give
me the highlights.

Are the injuries
the same as before?

More or less.

Would you say it's
the same killer?

Most definitely.

The chances of there being two
different murderers operating

in such a manner at the same
time would be infinitesimal.

Was there anything
missing from the victim?

A kidney.

Completely removed.

But you knew that, didn't you?

How?

This morning's paper.

That's impossible.

Published another
letter from the Ripper.

What was done to the
girl's body in detail.

Well that settles it.

The letters are real, and
so is Jack the Ripper.

Sorry sir, I thought
you'd wanna know right away.

They've found another body.

Looks like our man again.

Be nice to go just one day
without finding another body.

It's Stubb!

I'd like a word with him.

I imagine you know which
case you've been invited in

to share you knowledge of?

Invited to share my knowledge?

Yeah well, that's a fine way
to put it, Inspector, isn't it?

I'm learning from you, Stubb.

I'm an innocent man, Inspector.

Why did you run?

I've not even been
charged with anything.

Allow me to remedy
that situation.

Unless you start talking you'll
be charged with the murders

of Polly Neilson, Annie
Chaplin and quite possibly

the young girl that
was found this morning.

Murders?

I, I thought you were
gonna charge me with-

- With what?

Nothing.

Nothing, I, er, I misspoke.

Why don't you try again?

I don't know nothing
about those murders.

On the contrary, Mr Stubb,
you seem to know an awful lot.

Rather too much, as it happens.

Intimate, detailed
knowledge of the wounds

to each victim's body,
that you didn't get from me

or anybody else in
this department.

Well those details were
in the letters, Inspector.

Oh yes, the famous
Ripper Letters.

In blood red ink, no less.

You said yourself that they
were authentic, Inspector.

I said the information
in them was authentic,

not the writer.

And it seems to me
that you, Stubb,

personally have done rather well

out of this whole,
nasty business.

Search his bag.

You've no right to do that.

Something to hide in there?

The murder weapon perhaps?

Of course not.

Looks like a
packet of notepaper.

And an ink pen.

Of course I've got an ink
pen, I'm a writer aren't I?

Simpson's Best
Quality Writing Ink.

Scarlet Red.

I wonder, Mr Stubb, if we took
a sample of your handwriting

and compared it to one
of these Ripper letters,

what conclusion
we might come to?

You got a light?

No.

All right.

I did the letters.

It was just a bit of
showmanship, you know?

And er, well, I didn't think
it would cause any harm.

And the murders?

No.

No, I ain't nothing to
do with those murders.

Then how did you know what
to write in those letters?

Every knife slash, every cut.

Every detail of
those girls' bodies.

Well sir, this one's
in a right state.

Why does he do it, do you think?

It's not for us to divine why.

Yeah but, you must wonder.

I mean, everyone's
talking about it,

it's all Ripper this
and Ripper that.

I have to keep my head down.

If anyone knew I'd had my
hands all over his victims...

The second victim, do you
know where my report is?

It'll be on your desk, won't it?

It isn't.

But I'm sure it was last night.

You probably took it home.

Now why would I do that?

Are you sure you don't
know where it is?

Put yourself in
my position, Stubb.

I'm under a lot of
pressure to nab somebody

for these murders, thanks
to your bloody newspaper.

You're the first to the
scene of every crime,

you've got in-depth
knowledge of the killings,

and you, personally
stand to benefit

from each and every murder,

the more shocking and
perverted the better.

Give me one damn reason
why I shouldn't throw you

in the cells this very minute?

Locque?

I'm in the middle of something!

I know.

That is why I came.

Tell him, Dodd.

He got 'em from me.

What?

The medical reports
on the bodies.

He's been taking
them from my desk,

copying them out and then
returning them the next morning.

And the copies went
to your friend, there,

from the newspaper.

Are you sure of this?

This morning he
forgot to put them back.

And I imagine you
paid a pretty penny for them?

It's not a crime to
report the true facts

of a case, is it?

Why didn't you just
bloody-well say so?

I'm a journalist, Inspector.

I have to protect my sources.

Take 'em away.

It's been a long day.

Join me for a drink,
why don't you?

I, um-

- Come on, it's not six o'clock.

You can spare me ten minutes.

I cant stay too long, my wife-

- Keeps you on your
toes, does she?

You could say that.

Still, cheers.

It's worth it, I imagine.

You're not married?

No, never found the time.

Must have spent too much
of it behind that desk.

Thomas.

It is Thomas, isn't it?

Yes, my work does come first.

I imagine you're
under a lot of pressure.

It's not the external pressure,

it's what's in here, Thomas.

I take it personally,
whatever happens on my patch,

and whoever the victim is, be
it, lord, lady or gentleman.

Or whore.

They all deserve justice.

Now, about the Ripper-

- Isn't that just
a name your friend

from the newspaper conjured up?

It is.

But I've a feeling
it's gonna stick,

it seems quite fitting.

Not entirely.

Oh?

What's your take on it, then?

Everything I know
is in my reports.

Yes.

I'm not interested
in what you know.

I'm interested in
what you think.

I don't follow you?

You're more intimately
acquainted with the injuries

to these girls'
bodies than anybody.

Anybody but the killer himself.

You might have some thoughts,
some suspicions, anything.

I mean, what could make a
man do something like this?

A suspicion doesn't
constitute evidence, Edmund.

I might help.

It might throw some
light on something.

For instance, what
weapon is responsible

for these injuries?

It's in my report,
a precision blade.

What does that mean?

A butcher's knife?

No.

No, no, something much
sharper, more precise.

A craftsman's blade, perhaps.

A surgeon's scalpel.

Possibly, yes.

On the recommendation
of Dr Lowry,

we've got people out
interviewing every butcher

and slaughter man
in the district.

Are we wasting our time?

I would say so, yes.

The killer's no
butcher, he's precise.

And with a knowledge
of the human anatomy.

That missing kidney
was expertly removed.

An educated man?

Almost certainly.

A man of means?

Possibly.

So robbery isn't
his motive, then?

Without a doubt, his motive
is something much darker.

The location and savagery
of the injuries suggest

he takes an abnormal pleasure
in the act of violence.

A prurient pleasure if you like.

There's no shortage of
suspects then, is there?

What do you mean?

It's all around us, Thomas.

In every Penny Dreadful
novel in every corner shop.

The more gruesome the murders
the more the public lap it up.

Did you know, householders
in the vicinity

of every murder scene are
renting out their upstairs rooms

for people desperate
to catch a glimpse

of where a Ripper
victim met their demise.

I truly believe it's
something buried deep

inside of us, Thomas.

This desire for violence.

In all of us?

If I could get my hands on
the bastard that's behind this.

What do you think might
release it, this buried desire?

Could be anything,
I mean, drink, lust.

Do you think it's possible
that the killer himself might

be unaware of his actions?

Unaware?

Of crimes so heinous?

Well, if excessive
drink were involved,

in a drunken state many
a man have committed acts

that they would
normally find abhorrent.

Almost sounds as if you're
making excuses for him.

No, no not at all.

Another?

If you don't mind.

So, we've established the
type of man we're looking for.

An educated man, a
gentleman, quite possibly

some knowledge of surgery.

Yes.

What about his truly
defining characteristics?

Well, what do you mean?

Simply having access to scalpel

doesn't make one a murderer.

I mean, what makes
a man commit acts

of such appalling degeneracy?

How can you hope to know
that from the evidence in hand?

Think, damn it!

Well, there was one thing
that struck me as odd.

I didn't mention
it in my reports

'cause I wasn't exactly
sure how to phrase it.

The way in which the wounds
are inflicted is inconsistent.

So you think there's
more than one of them?

No, not between the killings,

I mean each one is inconsistent.

The initial attacks,
the throat slash

and the abdominal stabbings,

it's all done very fast and
with considerable force.

In the heat of
passion, you might say?

You might, yes, but
then the internal wounds,

the organ removal,
this was done carefully

and with precision, almost as
if by another hand entirely.

So you do think there's
more than one of them?

No, no, no,

I was speaking figuratively.

It's clearly the same
blade, I just wondered.

Does this provide any clue as
to the killer's intentions?

The murders are
committed very fast-

- Not just fast, frenzied.

Once the victim is dead, a
different motivation takes over

a more careful, planned act.

But why?

To send a message.

To who?

To us.

The time!

Sorry, Thomas, I've kept you.

Don't concern yourself, Edmund.

I am my own man after all.

You still here, sir?

I was just on my way out.

Just going over these medical
reports for the 100th time.

If you're angling for overtime,

the Chief Inspector's
not back 'til tomorrow.

Just trying to
make sense of it all.

There's no sense to made of it.

What do you mean?

Well, he's mad, sir.

Whoever's doing it.

There's no use trying to make
sense of what a madman does.

If it made sense, he
wouldn't be mad, would he?

Stands to reason.

Well that's cleared
things up no end.

Glad to hear it, sir.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Had a bit to drink have we?

Never mind, I've got
just the girl for you.

Up the stairs, last
door on your left.

Not me!

Up the stairs with you,
last door on your left!

Oh, come on!

Ain't you got no home to go to?

What is it?

It's ten o'clock in the
morning, that's what it is.

This ain't no doss house.

Come on!

Cathy?

Cathy?

Oh, erm, good morning.

What's left of it.

You're supposed to be
here at eight on the dot.

Yes, I-

- And the door was unlocked!

It's a good job the
reports were in my office,

you know how valuable they
are in the wrong hands.

Sorry sir, I thought
you'd wanna know right away.

Not another one?

Just up the road.

Thomas, why don't
you come with us?

What?

It might be useful
to see a body in sit...

No thanks-

- Come on, looks like
you could do with a walk

in the fresh air.

Up here, last door on the left.

Thomas, are you coming?

Just catching my breath.

You would've thought he'd
be used to this kind of thing.

I need to tell you
something, Edmund,

and let the chips
fall where they may.

What are you talking about?

I've been here before.

I've been to that room.

What is it you're trying to say?

It's the drink.

I black out.

And then when I wake up, I
don't know what I've done.

I think those killings,

I think I-

- Inspector?

There's a Miss Levine up here.

She wants to see you.

Oh Christ.

Bare with me, Thomas.

That girl was like a
daughter to me, Edmund.

They all are.

I'm so sorry.

Sorry, yeah, well.

I bet you are.

I thought you were gonna
do something about this?

I thought you were gonna
catch this bastard?

I thought you cared
about these girls,

but, you're just like
all the other coppers.

I know what you think.

You think it's a sordid
business, what goes on here.

But I'll let you in on a
little secret, Inspector.

You know what people
come here for?

What they really come here for?

It's love, Edmund.

That's what they long for
and that's what we give them.

It might be real love,

but it's as close as some
of those poor buggers

are gonna get.

Isn't that what you
came here for, Edmund?

All those years ago?

My first time in London.

I didn't know a single soul.

A skinny, innocent
young man you were.

And a good deal less innocent
when I left, thanks to you.

Didn't it feel
like love, Edmund?

Just for a moment?

Sometimes it still does.

That's just how it should be.

When it's done right.

But all these girls nowadays,

on street corners
and back alleys.

No wonder someone's
turned against them.

I cant help them all, Edmund.

And neither can you, it seems.

This is a difficult case,
the evidence is pointing-

- Evidence?

I've got some evidence for
you, for what it's worth.

What is it?

The gentleman's card.

The one Polly
Neilson worked for,

before she was
out on the street.

Bloody hell!

Edmund, about what I said-

- Never mind that!

We've got him!

What?

Dr Lowry.

Inspector?

What is all this?

I suppose there's
been some development

you wish to report to me?

There has indeed, sir.

So, you've caught the man?

You have him in custody?

He is at this very
moment within the walls

of this police station.

Excellent news!

And what manner of
man or beast is he?

Have you questioned him?

I am endeavoring to so.

Doesn't even speak the
Queen's English, I expect.

But first sir, I need to
ask what your particular

interests in this case?

My interest?

Well, you've been
extremely forthcoming

in your willingness to assist.

Well naturally, as a
Whitechapel resident,

and one of the better
ones if I may say,

I took it upon myself
to strive tirelessly

until the culprit
was apprehended.

Which has involved, as
you previously stated,

going from door to door.

Well I didn't go myself,

I have other things to attend
to, but I organized a group

of similarly concerned
citizens to do so.

Purely as a concerned citizen?

Yes.

So you don't have personal
connection to this case?

Personal connection?

I should say not.

What are you suggesting?

I'm not suggesting
anything, sir.

It sounds to me very much

like you are
suggesting something.

Do you think a man of my
standing would have anything

to do with the sort of
people involved in this case?

Or, or any murder,
for that matter?

I must warn you, I'm
a very good friend

of your Chief Inspector.

Be that as it may, I
need to ask you outright,

and I require a truthful answer.

Do you have any
personal connection

to any of the
victims in this case?

No.

Mary Jane Keates?

Annie Chaplin?

No.

Polly Neilson?

No!

Can you confirm that
this is your card, sir?

Yes, of course it is,
it's got my name on, man.

And where did you get it?

I got it from a
house of ill-repute,

where this morning the body of
Catherine Eastwood was found

with her stomach opened
from top to bottom.

Are you out of
your mind, Inspector?

Well somebody is!

I have never set foot
in that establishment.

It was left there
by Polly Neilson.

I told you I
don't know the girl.

I spoke to a few
of her acquaintances

on the way back here.

It's easy enough to do so,

there's plenty that knew
her down at the doss house.

Turns out, "Polly" was a name
she acquired on the streets.

Her real name was
Mary Anne Neilson.

Ring a bell does it, sir?

I do recall a girl
of that name, yes.

Worked for you as a maid.

You have to
understand, Inspector,

these girls come
and go all the time.

My housekeeper takes
care of it all.

But you remember
this one, don't you?

She told her story quite
liberally down at the doss house.

She was stealing, I had
to have her dismissed.

Dismissed her
personally, I believe?

Threw her out on her
ear without two pennies

to rub together.

Is it any wonder she
ended up where she did?

A thief deserves no better.

How did you know
she was a thief?

She had taken pieces
of silver cutlery.

Go on.

She secreted them in her
undergarments, isn't that so?

Where you found them, in
the course of performing

an indecent act upon her
person, isn't that so Dr Lowry?

Damn you, Inspector, this
is no business of yours!

And it has nothing to
do with these murders.

Oh, I think it's got a lot
to do with these murders.

I think it was entirely
in your interests

that Mary Anne Neilson should
meet her fate that night.

I'm sure you told her
to keep her mouth shut

but there was no way of
making sure, was there?

And having done it once you
acquired a taste for it.

Before you deny it, let
me reveal one other fact.

According to the expert analysis

of the Police Medical
Examiner, these murders are not

the work of some butcher
or slaughter man.

The injuries inflicted
upon these bodies were done

by the hand of an educated
man with clear knowledge

of human anatomy, quite possibly
a doctor such as yourself.

And can I also make it plain
that consider your actions

since the first murder
to be highly suspicious.

You have shown an unnatural
interest in the case,

attempting to railroad
the investigation off

in inappropriate directions,

all the time trying to
shift blame from yourself.

So, Dr Lowry, I have every
justification in bringing you

in here for questioning, and
the question I would like

to ask you, is can you
account for your movements

over the last two nights?

I think, perhaps, you should
ask your Chief Inspector

that question.

The Chief Inspector can
account for my movements.

Along with around
three dozen members

of his extended family.

I've been away in Guildford
for the past two days

attending my God
Daughter's wedding.

My God Daughter who also happens

to be the niece of
your Chief Inspector.

They even had us pose for one
of those wretched photographs.

I'm sure you can
examine the plates.

Don't think for a moment
this ends here, Inspector.

Did he confess?

God in heaven, please
tell me he confessed.

It wasn't him, airtight alibi.

But you said...

I know.

But it had to be him!

It wasn't him.

Not a chance.

You shouldn't take things
so personally, Thomas.

It'll come to no good.

I've had to learn
that lesson myself.

Take a holiday.

The case isn't gonna go
away in your absence.

I know it's none of my business,

go easy on the bottle, old man.

You look like death.

It cant be true.

It cant be true.

Good evening, Thomas.

Is something amiss?

No, I just... um-

- There's a spare
key to that cabinet

in your desk drawer, Thomas.

Perhaps you'd forgotten?

And I'm not a fool, Thomas.

Perhaps you'd
forgotten that as well?

So I'll ask again.

Is something amiss?

Just, just this.

Something else from
your desk drawer.

What's it, what's it doing-

- I left it where I knew
you'd find it Thomas.

Because I wanted you to know.

To know what?

That I know.

I know about the
secret little bottles,

sewn into pockets and
hidden behind books.

Elizabeth, I...

And I know about the secret
little walks into town.

The midnight, moonlit walks.

I know where you go.

And I know what you do.

I've walked out in your
shadow on many occasions.

I'm telling you this, Thomas,

because from now on,
it's going to stop.

In fact, I've made sure of it.

At least with regard to
those particular girls.

You won't be seeing
any of them again.

Except, perhaps, at your work.

Dear God, Elizabeth.

What are you saying?

The whores got
what they deserved!

Abusing their womanhood,

using it to steal the
husbands of good women!

You're a weak man, Thomas.

Easily led from the
straight and narrow path.

That's why I blame
them, rather than you.

That's why I had
to do what I did.

Christ in heaven, Elizabeth.

You'll hang for this.

Why should I?

No one but you or
I will ever know.

And in case you ever think
of sharing this knowledge,

think on this, Thomas, there
is no evidence to connect me

to these events.

But as for you-

- What are you saying?

If anyone ever asks
me your whereabouts

on certain times or dates, well-

- There is evidence, somewhere.

Certain organs were removed.

Oh, Thomas, you disappoint me.

I never blamed you, Thomas,

but I must admit
a certain pleasure

in seeing you destroy the
very evidence you speak of.

And watching you
enjoy every last bite.

It's getting late.

We should head to the bedroom.

Perhaps you can lie
beside me tonight?

Morning Thomas.

I was just on my way out.

On your rounds?

No.

Out for good.

Chief Inspector's orders.

Seems my handling
of the Ripper case

wasn't as successful
as he would have liked.

You cant win them all.

I suppose not.

Funny thing though,
there hasn't been

another murder for the
last couple of days.

Perhaps it's all over.

Perhaps it is.

We can but hope, anyway.

You seem to be taking it well.

I thought it was
your life's work,

bringing justice to Whitechapel?

I may have been
wrong about that.

I'm sure I was.

There's more to life
that work, Thomas.

And whatever else
happens, life goes on.

Yes.

Well, the best of luck to you.

I, er, I've got an
appointment to keep.

You going somewhere, pleasant?

Just up the road.

Are you set to go?

I am.

So, where are we going?

Somewhere a long way from here.