All language subtitles for Undercover (2016) - 01x02 - Episode 2.-RiVER-PROPER.English

You can't win trying to save
people like me. We have to go big.

Do you hear me, Maya?

You don't understand
what they're doing there.

He's not dead?

There is a drug in there.

- The doctor says...
- Enough. Call it, Judge.

Hey, Mummy's home!

- No girlfriend? - I don't know,
Dad, haven't found the right woman.

It's Dr Elliott, I'm
afraid I've got bad news.

I had another call from the
Attorney General's office,

they want you to interview.

Why d'you think in a million years

I'd want to be Director
of Public Prosecutions?

Michael Antwi. There's a new witness.

It's been 20 years.

We have shared history.

- Michael Antwi.
- There is a perfect storm coming.

We just want you to share
with us what she's thinking.

You remember Carter?

Welcome back, Detective Sergeant.

Brogues? Brogues or heels?

Heels.

Lippy or no lippy?

Lippy.

- How do I look?
- Great.

- Ella? - Great. - I don't
trust you, you always say that.

If you find you look terrible,
they'll never give you the job

- in a million years because you look
like a hideous old hag. - Thank you.

Love you.

Mwah! Mwah!

- Oh, thank you.
- Good luck.

- Go, Mum.
- Leave.

- Good luck.
- Good luck.

I want you to know you can talk about
any of part of your life with me.

Which life?

That's the point.

It's all one to me, I know everything.

You can talk about your
father, for instance.

It was simple and very moving.

What was?

His funeral.

We thought you should be represented.

You were there?

Here.

Your father's ashes.

Who was at the funeral?

Friends and neighbours.

And lots of nurses.

- Was there singing?
- Yes.

He was a fine man.

I'm sorry your children
didn't know their grandfather.

We need to talk about Michael Antwi.

She doesn't know who it is.

The witness.

And she'd tell you if she did?

We tell each other everything.

She tells me... everything.

She's not going to stop, you know.

She will never give up trying
to get justice for Michael.

- Does anyone know who it is?
- Why Michael Antwi after all these years?

Why the sudden interest?

You're scared, aren't you?

She's frightened you all.

- Walk with me. - I know what you're
going to say. - She can't get this.

- The AG likes her. - Likes the
idea of her. - It's more than that.

You're not hearing me properly,
she cannot get this job.

- I'm the baby on the panel.
- Pick a fight with her. - What?

Press her buttons -- race, sex,
class -- she'll have a rant

and then the AG will go off his good idea.

'She'll come home this evening and
tell you all about her interview.'

Nothing has changed.

You're the same happy family.

Think about it.

With me, you can be yourself.

- Miss Cobbina. - Good
morning. - Morning. - Morning.

10 years ago, we found out
an hour before the press

that the Attorney General and the
Director of Public Prosecutions

had both been having extramarital affairs.

The two leading lawyers advising
everyone else how to behave

had become blackmailable overnight.

We can't allow that to happen again.

The DPP must be uncorrupted
and incorruptible.

Which is why, I'm afraid...

this is going to be personal.

- Tell me about your husband.
- What do you want to know?

- Do you love him?
- Yes.

What do you argue about?

- We don't.
- Really? Nothing?

Isn't that a bit unusual?

He had a very ugly childhood.
I'm his place of safety.

What happened to him?

What are you doing?

Why don't you ask him yourself?

'Hello, it's Nick, I might
be writing, but probably not,

'so please leave a message.'

Oh, um... hi, it's me.

Er, they want to know about
your unhappy childhood

and how much you love me,

so give me a call back and I'll
put you on speakerphone. Bye.

- You've never prosecuted?
- No. - Why not?

I came to the criminal bar
to represent the dispossessed

- and the disadvantaged.
- That doesn't include rape victims.

Or abused children.

Or victims of racial hatred.

I have a client on death row
in Louisiana called Rudy Jones.

The last thing he told me
before they strapped him

onto a gurney to try and kill
him was that I should go big.

That's what this is. And why I'm here.

- That's America. - And it's not
prosecuting, what's the relevance?

Rudy understands what it's like
to be a victim and I get it...

- with victimhood. - How long have
you represented him? - 20 years.

- About the same time as you've
been representing the family of
Michael Antwi. - Yes, they connect.

- How?
- Michael put me onto Rudy.

The State killed one and
is trying to kill the other.

Michael Antwi was killed by Peter Mackie.

The State had nothing to do
with it. The case is closed.

- You'd have to give up both.
- I can't do that.

Are you withdrawing your application?

It would be a condition
of me accepting the job

that I carry on representing both.

Sorry, so whose side are you on?

There you have it. In one sentence.

Everything that is wrong with
public life in the 21st century.

Holding two things in
your head at the same time

whilst deciding which is right,
or both are right, or neither,

is as good a definition
of intelligence as I know.

Holding one thing in your head
at the expense of everything else

is a definition of politics.

- Balance, surely.
- No, no!

The opposite.

Balance sacrifices the
pursuit of the one thing

we should all be after -- the truth.

The journalist who is fearless
in his pursuit of balance?

The DPP who wants to keep everybody happy?

- Deadly. - All politics is compromise,
it's just naive to think otherwise.

What, it's just as well the DPP
is independent of politics.

You see, I think...

this can be the last great
independent public office left.

Isn't that what you want?

Courage, independence?

Or do you want balance,

compromise, moral cowardice?

Hello.

'You're someone who speaks your mind.

'He means you're a dangerous woman.'

- Thank you.
- He means how do we feel about that?

He means that when the tabloids
come for you, they take you down.

They take you round the
corner and they kill you.

And then they kill you again.

And then they kill your family.

And then they come back and
stamp on your dead bodies.

What are you saying?

If you want to make this much noise,

you'd better not have any
skeletons in your cupboard.

My bet is that everybody
else you see for this job

will give you less of who they are.

You might... flatter yourselves,

thinking you have read between the lines

and that's what is unspoken
is somehow more profound

for being unsaid and all that
chilly, English, posh bollocks.

I think as hard as I can.

I put all my being into
articulating exactly what I think.

Which is always and without
exception my best shot at the truth.

Which is all anyone can ever give or be.

Take it or leave it.

♪ .. Above and afar

♪ Like answers to questions

♪ On life

♪ Love and the longing to survive... ♪

This is what we agreed, right?

- Oh, Jesus Christ!
- It's the amount we talked about.

- But they upped it, I told you.
- We haven't got it, work it.

Is it you out there, putting your life
on the line? What do you think this is?

Are you saying you can't work it?

You can't work it, this
whole operation falls apart.

Put it in the bag, genius.

Yeah, just pull it, pull it tighter.

- OK, is that there?
- More.

- There we go. - That's it, yeah. - OK.

How much does it cost to
make me look this cheap?

No price too high.

- Here, ciggies.
- Thanks.

That's it, just hold still.

Marks & Spencer's. Fresh orange
juice, cherry tomatoes, avocados.

Sorry.

- I'm sorry. - It's the difference
between living and dying.

If they frisk you, find
that in your pocket,

it doesn't matter how
well I hid your wire.

Ow, bloody hell!

I'm running out of space.

You look terrible.

Thanks.

See you on the other side.

What's the go word?

- Hallelujah.
- Hallelujah it is.

Listen, don't be shy, get in
fast. Noisy and big, yeah?

- Nervous?
- Yeah.

- Where've you been for the
last 24 hours? - Hospital.

Why?

It's personal.

Shit.

- It's OK, you can do this.
- Shit.

- Right, can we go again?
- Yeah, sure.

Where've you been for the last 24 hours?

- Hospital. - Why? - It's personal.

Spill it, bitch!

I ain't your bitch! And I'll
cut anyone who says I am!

Nice.

Are you ready?

Where've you been, man? We can't
keep these people waiting.

I said do this a week ago.

I'm going to wire your head
to this door. Get over there!

Don't feel it. Is it warm, mate?

When I say do something, you do it.

You all right, Ricky?

- Where've you been?
- Hospital.

Look, it was personal, yeah?

What is it, a boy?

I don't know.

Look, they don't tell you.

Get this sorted.

All right, come on. I
got you a painkiller.

Huh?

Sort her out.

- It's all right, I shouldn't, not
when I'm working. - It's good stuff.

Hit the pipe.

- Hit it.
- It's clean.

Go on.

- What's the matter with
you? Go on, take it. - Go on.

Go on.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

We need to go.

'Suspect car has arrived. Four
occupants, repeat, four occupants.

- 'That's what I like to hear.
- You've brought all your friends, have you?

'Well, it's a growing business, isn't it?

- 'Undercover officer is with them.
- Why, what are you worried about?'

Another UC? He knows about her, right?

- He knows there are two UCs, right?
- He must do.

- No, not he must do -- does he?
- 'Where's my gear?

- 'We'll bring it in when we're happy.
- What, you don't trust me?'

How about I don't trust you?
Search these people, man.

Wait, hold on, bruv.

- 'I'm not your bruv.'
- Who told him?

Jesus Christ, what's the matter
with you people? Does he know her?

Does he know her?

Does he know about who?

This is business and I am frisking you.

You wouldn't want to do business with me

unless I was a professional, would you?

Oh, God.

- What are we doing?
- Right, get him out, abort now.

- It's too late. It's in play, he's
in, she's in. - Our man can handle it.

She's wearing a wire.

Sounds like it's about your ego.

- Whatever.
- Right, do it.

She's dead, he just killed her.

Don't touch me!

That's my girl, she's cool.

- Your girl?
- Mm.

I'll do it myself.

I know you.

I've seen you somewhere before.

- I don't think so.
- Kentish Town police station.

I don't get nicked.

'I do know you.'

I've got it, Beaver Club. The Beaver Club.

Oh, yeah.

I remember.

'I remember.'

She's safe.

I know her.

You know her or you KNOW her?

She hit me on the dancefloor,
innit? I had to fight her off.

Come on.

All right.

What you selling? What you selling?

It's high-quality gear.

Round the corner, you and me.

Why we round here?

- Didn't want you losing face in
front of your people. - What is this?

The product is a little disappointing.

When coke first arrived and
it was pure, I was there.

That shit, man, it would make
your gums go numb in five seconds,

the feeling wouldn't come
back for an hour, you get me?

I'm going to have to go back
to the first price on this shit.

- 'The number we talked about.
- We'll go somewhere else.

'All right, well, go for it.
But if you are smart right now,'

you are one step away from an easy life.

Cos all you need is one
buyer you trust absolutely,

someone who will take all the risks
of distribution away from you.

Come to me, and only me,
you can rest easy for ever.

You know what this is?

This is the biggest moment
of your professional career.

You feeling lonely, innit?

All right, call it in, man. Go
ahead, Mark's your number one.

It's me, listen...

'Yeah, I know, it's your call, bruv.'

- All right, I'm bored, man, I'm out.
- All right!

- All right.
- Are we good?

I've got this thing,
it's about sealing trust.

My man with the money, you call him in.

You've got style, brother.

Yo.

'Bring me the money.'

Here.

We're good.

- Hallelujah.
- Go, go, go!

Police! Police! Armed police!

Try to set me up?

Bastard!

All right, mate, another one of these.

And a port.

We haven't been introduced.

I hit on you?

- Well, you're doing it again. - Would
you do me a favour? - Are you asking?

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Come on, out.

So, Ricky, to charge or not to charge.

Well, the evidence isn't strong.

In interview, he said he was
just passing and we jumped him.

He's not on the drugs,
the drugs are not on him.

- They can't get us, son!
- Calm down.

Oi, that's enough!

Calm down. Take him away.

It'll be over quick enough.
These guys don't hang around.

We've tails on them. We'll be
there, only just not quite in time.

I'm going to the pub if you fancy a pint.

Must've been somebody
putting us in the frame.

It looks that way.

Why did they let you go, Ricky?

Agh!

Down.

I get it, I get it.

Two for the price of one.

One dead, one in Belmarsh for ever.

Here's to good, clean justice.

I'll drink to that. Cheers.

You are all charged with conspiracy
to supply controlled drugs

of class A, contrary to section
1 of the Criminal Law Act 1977.

- Are you Mr Trevor Eastman?
- Yes.

- Are you Mr Simon Morton?
- Yes.

Are you Mr...?

- Are you all right?
- Yeah, yeah, good. - Yeah?

So, a screen?

- And the judge is friendly?
- Hm.

Oh, good.

There's some legal argument.

- What? - Tail-end Charlie,
trying it on, she's almost done.

Who's for tail-end Charlie?

Basically, the police were doing
a drug deal with themselves.

One of the arrested gang members
was released without charge

and then murdered.

I can't see a reason for not
charging him on the evidence.

Which leads me to think he must
have been an informant, my Lord,

there was no other explanation.

But that hasn't been disclosed to us.

I think he was a grass and the
police knew that he'd been blown,

and rather than spend money on
a new identity and a new life,

they let him walk out
the nick to his death.

But that's all conjecture on
my part because it has to be.

And that's the problem with
this prosecution, there is

no way of me getting any clearer
as to what was going on here.

So far, we've got two police
officers working undercover

and a grass.

I'm beginning to wonder if those
responsible for the entrapment

outnumber those being entrapped.

Is there anyone left who isn't
not what they say they are?

It's a miscarriage of
justice waiting to happen.

It's me trying to defend
my client with both hands

tied behind my back and a
gag in my mouth, my Lord.

And the criminal justice system I
work in is so much better than that.

That's very compelling, Miss Cobbina.

Shit!

This is shit! And you know it.

- All right.
- Nick.

This is shit! So they're
just going to walk?

Do they know the risks we
take when we go out there?

Look at this woman, right? Look at this.

- Don't, don't...
- No, no, look at it.

Look at it. She does this
for you and you just...

Who the hell is she?

This lawyer, who is she?

Her name is Maya Cobbina.

Does she sleep at night?

Yes!

One question. Are they
guilty? Answer -- yes.

Yes, everybody knows that,
their own briefs know that.

Sorry, sir.

Look, I'm a police officer. I
want it to be better than this.

Am I out?

Is that why I'm here?

Yes.

You're smart.

Yeah...

So I'll bounce back in my new desk job.

Drugs will always be with us.
Drug gangs will always be there.

I'm sorry, sir, what are you saying?

Go and build yourself a new life.

We want you to take a step up.

Right.

- Primary school? - Wycombe Street.
- First teacher? - Miss Hazel.

- Age?
- 162.

Well, that's what she told us.

- Siblings?
- No siblings, got none.

Any distinguishing features?

Charm, charisma.

- And... a-a birthmark.
- Where?

Here.

There it is.

Ooh! How did you do that?

I tattooed it. It stung and all.

- Your first bike?
- I didn't have a bike.

An early memory?

I remember the social
worker gave me an Action Man

when they came to take me away.

My mum was standing at the front door.

I got in the back of the car.

The social workers smelt nice.

His boot came off, the Action Man.

I bent down to pick it up.

By the time I looked up again,

my mum had already gone back inside.

Full name?

Nicholas... Johnson.

I am Nick Johnson.

Born on 3 November, 1971.

A Wednesday.

Nice.

Job -- you need something
flexible, unusual hours,

and something you can do on your own.

I'm a writer.

Well, of course you are.

So, Michael Antwi, 35, political
activist -- dangerous.

Get close, make friends, win trust.

All right, people, round
of applause for the speaker.

I've been in Louisiana, USA.

I met a man called Rudy Jones.

He is in prison,

facing a trial for a murder
which he did not commit.

Is that something which happens in
Hackney or Tottenham or Brixton?

Why Rudy?

He is black...

he is poor...

and he likes a drink.

He also has an alibi. But, guess what?

The alibi witness is black.

He is poor... and he likes a drink.

The white cops have been to see him.

They told him, "We like Rudy
for this, and if you help him,

"we may have to do sweep you up
too and charge as an accomplice."

Nothing like that happens in
Hackney or Tottenham or Brixton.

Should we march again?

Should we walk down the same streets
and sing We Shall Overcome...

and hand in a list of our names
to men who will not read it...

.. men who will never hear
our songs of protest...

who cannot feel our pain?

Because after decades of
singing and polite protest,

I'm starting to think it might
be the time to judge those

we seek to change -- not
by the colour of their skin

but by the content of their character.

I ask you this now
because I hear a rumbling.

I hear a long, low note of deep anger.

Do you hear it?

Do you hear it?

It is the sound of a black nation rising.

It has been a long time
coming, but it is coming.

When I look around at you,
my sisters and brothers,

I feel that pain.

But I also feel the
power inside that pain.

Now...

now is the moment in our
history where we must say,

as clear as clear can be,

"If you hurt me, I will hurt you too."

If you...

if you hurt my brother, all of
my brothers are coming for you.

- No more!
- No more!

- No more!
- No more!

- No more!
- No more!

- No more!
- No more!

No more, I say.

No more dreams, no more nightmares,

for we are no longer asleep.

In Louisiana, we are wide awake.

In Hackney and Tottenham and Brixton,

our consciousness is awoken,

and in this new dawn,
there will be action.

And the consequence of that
action is power for our people.

And in that power is true freedom.

The time has come for us to
stop asking for our freedom

and to take it.

Take it!

(Thank you.)

Incredibly impressive.

- Yeah. Fantastic. Do you
agree with him? - 100%.

So you are a danger to society?

Well...

So... what do you do?

Are you chatting me up?

No, I was...

- Hey... - No, I'm a lawyer.
It's OK, I'm a lawyer.

Is it all right? All right.

- Well, what kind? - Crime. - All right.

- You? - A writer. - Oh. - I'm a writer.

- What kind of crime?
- Legal aid.

Oh, should I have heard of you something?

Oh, no. No, sorry. Nick.

- Nick Johnson.
- What kind of writing?

Crime.

Yeah, I know.

- Maya Cobbina.
- Miss Cobbina.

So what is the answer to my question?

- What, am I chatting you up?
- Mm.

Do you want to see my birthmark?

This as my boyfriend.

Ray, this is Nick.

I'm going to go and talk to Michael.

What do you want?

I want to stop waking up every
morning and thinking to myself,

- "Oh, I'm black".
- Weren't you listening?

That's what they want us for do.

We should be waking up every
morning saying the exact opposite.

- "I'm black. I'm fighting back."
- I hear you. Hear you.

You are a lucky man.

What?

So... is she good in court?

'I think he is angry.'

'Who?'

- Nick. - About what? - The police.

It's good, what you're doing.

What?

I know it is not easy being a black UC.

- I have been working on a
good route in. - Who is he?

She. She is a lawyer.

- Do you like her?
- No. - Does she like you?

Hmm...

Then she will want to trust you.

Yes.

It is a good route in.

OK, thank you. Thank you.

Any other questions?

Sir?

What kind of car have you got?

BMW.

How many times have you
been stopped and searched?

I'm a police officer.

Yeah, but what is the
answer to my question?

Seven times this year.

Excuse me, Officer, what about you?

I haven't been stopped.

What, this year?

Ever.

Have there ever been reasonable
grounds for stopping you?

- No. - Have you ever been arrested
as a result of being stopped?

- No. - So, are you a drug
dealer? Did you steal your BMW?

Very funny.

How the hell can you afford to
pay for a car like that, nigger?

OK! OK, OK.

- OK, good joke.
- Oh, what, so it's funny?!

There is something funny about this?

- What-what kind of a joke is it?
- Look...

Listen, listen, I don't know how
you can live with yourself, mate.

I want to hear you admit
it, right here, right now.

Tell us that the Metropolitan
Police Force is racist.

Go on, can you do that?

Because if you can do that, then
maybe we can all start something.

Go on.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

- Drink?
- Yeah, man, yeah.

You had him in there.

You had him bending down on the table

with your face right up his arse.

- Where you learn to talk like that to police?
- I write crime novels.

Is the hero black?

Sometimes.

- Black police?
- Yeah, sometimes.

I hate that.

- What? - When a brother
puts the uniform on.

It's a betrayal.

It's unforgivable.

So, Nick, who are you?

What do you mean?

Where did you go to school?

- Tufnell Park.
- Oh, yeah?

I know Tufnell Park. My mum was
a TA in a primary school there.

Yeah, well, not in my
school, not in my time.

Drink up, you are getting behind.

You lot...

'Somebody is running a data
check on the Nick Johnson.'

It's not a problem, we
don't need to panic.

An organisation that
monitors police action

is bound to be paranoid
about police infiltration.

Well, they've got that right.

Did you know, right, that every
prisoner in Stokie nick is black?

What do you think about that?

We could pull you out if you
think you have made a mistake.

I have made no mistakes.

In Louisiana today, now,

you can still see black men in
chains working in sugar plantations,

- Guarded by white horsemen
with guns. - Jesus.

Do you know what they
do for jury selection?

They ask you if you are
against the death sentence.

If the answer is yes -- you're out.

They won't let you serve as a juror.

- That's terrible.
- Rudy Jones.

He had a drunk idiot who had never
worked a captive case before

defending him.

He's on death row?

He has no-one to make his appeal,

so what are you going to do about it?

I don't know... What were
you trying to say to me?

I hear you are a very good lawyer.

It's time.

OK. See you.

Michael.

You are going to need a
bodyguard at the march tomorrow.

- You think?
- Yeah.

The police are a little
slow to provide protection

for mouthy black folk.

Are you offering?

- It would be a privilege.
- Thank you.

Stay in...

Hello.

Hey, are you all right?

Yeah... All... Yeah, I know
where it is, I know where it is.

OK.

I can't stop.

I don't know how to stop.

I don't want to stop.
It's everything to me.

- I'm terrified the top floor
is going to find out. - Yeah.

It's so hard.

I'm pretending that I'm
three people all at once.

Who am I?

You're OK, you're all right.

All right.

I'm going to help you.

- All right? - Yeah. - I'm
going to help you. - Yeah.

All right.

- Who is it?
- No. No, I'm not doing this.

But you've come to me,
so you know you have to.

You have to tell us for everyone's safety.

All right, but just...

.. don't tell her it was me.

Our rights! Black rights!
Our rights! Black rights!

Coons go home! Coons
go home! Coons go home!

- Our rights! - Black rights!
- Our rights! - Black rights!

- Our rights!
- Black rights!

Kill the coons! Kill the
coons! Kill the coons!

Excuse me, excuse me.

Why aren't you making arrests?
You're just standing there.

Why aren't you making arrests?

Threats to kill, or section four
or five of the Public Order Act.

Our rights!

Are you even listening to me?

Michael? Michael! Michael!

Listen, I'm undercover.
I'm an undercover officer.

Of course you are, mate.

Hey, hey, hey, hit me and then let me go.

Do it.

Racist pigs!

- Excuse me. I'm looking for a Michael Antwi.
- Sorry, who are you?

- I'm looking for a Michael Antwi...
- I've no idea who he is.

Are you a solicitor or what?

No, I'm a legal observer for the march.

- Look, you've got no status here.
- Has he been brought in?

Look, if you don't leave,
I'll have you removed. Out!

- Michael! Are you all right?
- Yeah. - Are you sure? - I'm fine.

- Out!
- Ring me at home!

Oi, you! Back!

You OK?

- This should be cold.
- Oh, thanks. Cheers.

Who's this?

Oh, that's my dad. He was a teacher.

- He looks like a wise soul.
- Hmm.

When I was 12 I bunked off
school to march against apartheid.

The whole of the sixth form
and me, this year seven kid,

like a regimental goat. I didn't
feel like a goat, I felt brilliant.

More importantly, I felt grown-up.

The police, they held us down
this cul-de-sac for six hours --

no water, no peeing, freezing cold.

- Oh, God, that's outrageous.
- I loved it!

I was so pleased with my martyrdom
I think it warmed me up.

Ten minutes later when I wet myself,
I really wasn't that cold any more.

Sorry, was that too much information?

Never.

You're a good listener.

I'm sorry, what has this
got to do with your dad?

Oh! Yeah.

When I came back, he was waiting for me,

and he said, "You know, I'll
support you not going to school,

"I'll even argue with your head
teacher about your right to bunk off

"on one condition -- you
tell me what apartheid is."

I said, "Well, it's, um...

"it's being horrible to black people."

"No, it isn't", he said.

In the silence that
followed, I made a vow.

Don't jerk your knee, know
what you're talking about.

What do your parents do?

Cocaine.

Sometimes hash.

- No...
- Yeah, they did.

Did lots of drugs. They're
both long gone now.

I'm sorry.

Would you like a bath?

Em... yeah.

- Maya?
- Yes?

Can I ask you something?

Yes.

Can I have a towel?

Yeah.

- There you go.
- Thanks.

Maya?

Maya?

I got into bed.

- Sorry.
- That's all right.

Jesus Christ!

Hold it! Hold it.

Not safe in there. We wait
for shields and helmets.

Go, go. Just get in there. Get him out.

Stop struggling. Lay
still. Stop struggling!

♪ Tonight

♪ Tonight... ♪

Hello.

Yes. Yes.

Sure.

Thank you.

Thank you, bye.

I'm going big.