All language subtitles for silent.witness.s22e08.hdtv.x264-mtb[eztv]

The bomb went off
when she opened the door.

The victim is indeed
Olivia Walsh.

This morning,
when I saw that blast scene,

it all came back
like it was yesterday.

Orla.

If I'm to go opening up
doors again,

I need a better reason
than a favour to an old mate.

I've driven Mr Lawson to a number
of meetings recently.

If the killings start,
there's nothing you can do about it.

Just leave it alone.

- We have to do this together.
- Do what?

She's met your mother.
Now, she deserves justice.

- Mr Alex Harris?
- Hi.

Do you know this woman?

Olivia initiated
the affair,

but she didn't seem
to enjoy it very much.

Pat Walsh sprays the blood
all over his walls.

Staged his own death.

Niall Malloy.

Joined the IRA in '76. Earned him
his nickname, Death Maker.

- Does he know who did this to Mum?
- Maybe.

I didn't talk.

Niall, I'm begging you!

Please.

Some minor petechial haemorrhaging
on the eyelids.

Little finger, ring finger,
and middle finger are bandaged.

Bruising at the wrist, caused by
severe pulling at the bindings.

No sign of forced entry.

"The fast reflexes of pensioner
William McDonagh saved the life"

"of Luke Ashley, 11, when he fell
into a canal while fishing."

No hero's death
for William McDonagh.

Look at this.

Hmm.

A black hair.

I don't think it's human.

Whiskey.

Here we go.

"Canine inoculation record."

"Owner, Will McDonagh.
Dog's name, Rocky."

He's a Staffordshire bull terrier.

Staffies can be aggressive
if they're trained to be.

- If his owner was being attacked...
- So where's Rocky?

Morning.

How's everyone holding up?
Nightmares all night.

And you?

- You don't have a fag, do you?
- Sorry.

I quit when I got pregnant
with Rebecca, I just...

thought now was a good time
to start again.

- No word from Les?
- No.

Les and his dad,
are they close?

Let me put it this way. In the ten
years that I've known Les,

I've never heard either one of them
raise their voice to each other,

which is more than I can say
for Les and those two.

- So Les would be loyal to his father?
- What are you getting at?

If they're close, Les might be
persuaded to do something

that... normally he wouldn't.

Do what, exactly?

Marie, Pat may not be the person
you think he is.

What are you saying?

He's some sort of criminal?

Les would never do anything illegal.

Les may suspect that your phone
is being monitored.

He might try and get in touch
some other way.

If he does,
you need to let us know.

We're going. Come on, baby.

Becca, come on.

Good girl.

Come on, I won't hurt you.

Come on. Here, Rocky.

Come on.

Rocky.

Hi, Thomas.
We're going to need a vet.

If this dog attacked the assailant,

we might find hair
or blood residue on it.

- You've got a few minutes now. Thanks.
- Thank you.

When was the last time
you had a bath, Rocky?

Nothing obvious round the claws.

Look at this.

Yeah.
Swab, please.

Jack.

The deceased is male, identified
from records as William McDonagh,

aged 65.

Three teeth missing.

22 and 23...

and 45.

Not recent, sockets well healed.

Circular scar tissue to the abdomen.

8mm in diameter.

Yep, similar sized scar tissue
on the other side.

That's a fully healed bullet wound.

Bruising to the right hand
has started to yellow.

Fracture sites haven't united yet.

Not much time for callus formation,
so likely to be fairly recent.

So what have we got?

Multiple signs of trauma,
historic and recent.

Been through the wars,
William McDonagh.

Thank you.

It WAS human blood in the dog's fur.

DNA confirms it belongs to one
Patrick Walsh, otherwise known as...

Niall Malloy.

Oh, God, it hurts.

Did Mum know?

About the cancer?

Well, I didn't tell her right away,
but, yes, she did.

Why were you keeping it from me?

Do you not trust me?

You've got your own kids.

What would you do if you had
a diagnosis like mine?

It's completely different, Dad.
They're young children.

And you'll find out, Les...

you never stop seeing
your children as children.

I just wanted to protect you, son.

Wanted to protect your mum.

OK, we'd better get out of here.

Marie keeps texting me.

She's leaving messages.
She's just worried sick.

We're nearly there. We're close.

I don't want to let you down, Dad.

You're NOT letting me down.
You've done more than enough.

You know, the life I had...

was a good life.
Better than I ever deserved.

It was all down to your mum.

The least I can do for her now
is to bring her justice.

The police WILL find out
who killed her.

Perhaps.

But I may not live to see it.

All I want is to find the people
who did this.

The police can handle the rest.
Dad...

Will McDonagh was involved in a
number of bombings in the '80s,

along with his cousin, Niall Malloy.

Indeed, McDonagh was considered the
closest associate of Malloy.

But back in 1989, he was arrested
for his involvement in the ambush

and murder of two off-duty
RUC officers.

Spend the next ten years in jail,

and then promptly dropped
off the radar.

They've found Les Walsh's car.

Parking lot CCTV picked up Pat and
Les Walsh leaving in a hurry

two hours ago.

Pat looked like he had an injury
to the right hand.

Blood stains.
Remains of a bandage.

A dog bite?

Could be.

Similar to the cup
in McDonagh's flat.

Taken to remove any trace of DNA
from the scene of the crime.

Yeah.

How long has it been since Les Walsh
was last seen?

About 15 hours.

They've got to eat and sleep.
I don't see any signs of food wrappers

or water bottles,
even crumbs or food stains.

Malloy's storage unit
is under surveillance,

so they haven't gone back there.

A careful man like Malloy
might well have two boltholes.

Hey.

Hey. Can we meet?

Now's not good.

- I'm being followed.
- Are you sure?

Yes, I'm sure.

Right, Battersea Park in an hour.
Bye.

You all right?
Mm-hm.

Any idea who he is?

Nope.

Well, let's find out, shall we?

I'll take it from here.

DI Quint. You must be Miss Flanagan.

You had her followed?
I understood from Hodgson here

that you might have established
contact with your source.

- Thanks for that, Jack.
- I assumed that you,

being an investigative reporter,
wouldn't be too keen on sharing.

You assumed correctly.

I'll leave you boys to it.

Look, Miss Flanagan...

Craig Greenwood is a driver
for Ken Lawson,

a prominent Northern Irish
businessman who has been a

vocal proponent of direct rule and a
staunch opponent of power-sharing.

Am I correct in assuming that you
think Lawson might have been

a part of their secret group,
The Guild?

You can think what you like.

Quite a history, Craig Greenwood.

Former loyalist paramilitary.

Suspected of killing at least
12 Republicans, none proven.

Do you trust him?

He hasn't lied to me so far.

And did Greenwood give you
reason to believe

that The Guild was active again?

Any names?

I'll be in touch again,
Miss Flanagan.

Quint, The Guild really exists,
and you confront Lawson

about any of this,
they'll think someone's talked,

they'll start looking for a leak.
I'm aware of that.

You talk to Greenwood, you'll make
him the number one suspect,

he might point the finger at Orla.

If needs be,
Miss Flanagan will get protection.

She'll be safe.
Will she?

You should have told me
you talked to the police.

Orla...

Jack, got a minute?

What is it?

Going through Olivia Walsh's
computer, I saw an e-mail

thanking her for her donation
to a group called For The Living.

- Which is?
- A support group run by surviving families

from both sides of
the Northern Ireland Troubles.

How much did she donate?

Well, according to her bank records,

two 10,000 Pound online donations
two weeks ago.

Are there any earlier donations?

Nope, just these two.

According to Pat Walsh's GP,
he received his cancer diagnosis...

three days before
Olivia's donation.

Do you think it prompted
a confession to his wife?

"Hello, honey,
I used to be a terrorist."

That's enough to drive a wedge
into any relationship.

It could explain the donation.

Hey.

So, I'm going to check in
with all my old contacts.

They weren't as deeply embedded
as Craig,

but they might give a clearer
overall picture of what's going on.

OK, but be careful.

No, listen.
From now on, I do this on my own.

I won't have any more contact
with you.

Whatever I may or may not find out

will be at my discretion
to divulge to the police.

Orla...

- Hello? Who's there?
- Orla?

Orla!

Quint, Orla Flanagan's house,
right now.

Orla! Orla!

Orla!

Orla.

She's alive. Orla!

Orla, wake up.
Come on, wake up now.

Orla.

What's happening?

Pulse is at 30. Dropping.

Only visible injury is a head wound
above the left ear.

Hello, Orla, can you hear me?
My name's Bryony.

Orla, can you open your eyes for me?

She's breathing, but I'm not getting
a response. Can we pulse check?

Hey, Jack.

- You all right?
- Yeah.

I gather you know Orla Flanagan.

I do.

Listen, if you want to sit this one
out, that's...

My swab is on file to eliminate me
from any...

Yeah, that's not what I'm saying.
You know that.

I need to do this.

OK.

Here if you need me, yeah?

Windows are all intact.

No sign of a break-in.

Neither front nor balcony door
show signs of being forced.

So she may have known her assailant,
and let him or her in?

Fresh shiny striation marks
around the lock.

Finer than a key.

Intruder picks the lock...

steps inside...

knocks into this.

So a man who's professional enough
to know how to pick locks

without a trace,

and then clumsily
knocks over a flowerpot.

What was Orla's exact position
before I arrived?

Her arms spread out to the side.

Her shirt had been pulled open.

I think a button was missing.

Mm-hm.

No sign of a weapon...

or evidence that she hit her head
on the corner of the table,

a wall, or any other hard,
angular surface.

Standard laptop power plug.

No laptop.

Can't the laptop be tracked?

Not without a network connection,
no.

- Mum?
- Mm?

Mum, it's Dad.

Les, are you all right?
Where are you?

Everything's fine, guys.
I just, erm...

- I just wanted to let you know that...
- What's going on?

Is your dad still alive?

Erm, Marie, this will
all be over soon.

What will be over?

I just don't want you and the kids
to worry, OK?

But everything...
everything is fine.

Les, you can't do this to us.

You need to come back right now.

Yeah, look, I've got to go, Marie.

I will be back as soon as I can,
all right?

I promise you that.
I love you. Bye.

- Dad?
- He's gone, darling.

Dad's fine, babe. Come on.

There you go.

How's Orla doing?

Erm, her vitals are stable now,
but there's parts

of the brain haemorrhaging,
so they're keeping her under.

And how are you holding up?
I'm all right, yeah.

I'm not prying, Jack,
but I can see that you're suffering,

and I don't like it.

My Aunt Rosie...

my dad's younger sister,
she was always round our house.

Dad, he was like
a real big brother to her.

Any time she went out, he'd drive
there and pick her up after,

and... any boyfriend had to have Dad's
seal of approval - most didn't.

Not even the man she married.

One Saturday morning, Dad and I were
walking home after football practise

and around the corner
there's an explosion, a big explosion,

made the ground shake.

Dad yelled at me, "Stay put."

But I didn't.

I followed round the corner.

There was smoke and...

debris and...

there on the ground were
her black high-heeled shoes.

My dad doesn't talk about it,
though.

But I knew when he was thinking
about it because, he'd go walking.

Sometimes he'd walk all night.

I'm so sorry, Jack.

- I never knew.
- Yeah.

Mm.

A small loyalist splinter group
claimed responsibility,

but... word on the street was it had
been sanctioned by The Guild.

Their target had been
an IRA commander.

He got away.

And the bombers...

they got away, too.

No whiskey?

No whiskey.

No bad memories?

No old ones, anyway.

- Late dinner?
- What's late when you're my age?

There's a stew on the hob.

Not a patch on your maw's
but help yourself.

Good enough for me.

Orla Flanagan's fingernails
are intact.

No sign of defence wounds
on either hands or arms.

Also substantial bruising to
the chest area here, can you see?

She fractured two ribs.

She was hit in the chest?

Well, possible.

But the bruising could also
indicate vigorous heart massage.

Not me. This is the damage to
the scalp left by the instrument

which struck her.

X-rays show point of impact
just above the pterion,

which resulted in a fracture
of the skull.

She's lucky to be alive.

Morning, gentlemen. Morning.
I'm looking for a Craig Greenwood?

Yes, the chap with the
black car. He's just over the road.

Craig Greenwood?

Yes? DI Quint.

This is DC Anderton.

Do you know an Orla Flanagan?

I've heard the name.

Well, you met her,
yesterday afternoon.

That's right.

Why did you meet with Orla?

She asked to meet.

So, you know her from before?

No, she told me she was working
on a history of the Troubles

and felt that I could contribute.

And what did you say?

I told her to let sleeping dogs lie.

And did you talk about an
organisation called The Guild?

No.

You and Miss Flanagan parted on
less than cordial terms yesterday.

Did you threaten her?

Is that what she told you?

Nah.

Where were you last night between
the hours of eight and 9pm?

- At home, watching TV.
- Oh, yeah. What was on?

Some reality show crap.

I fell asleep.

- No witnesses?
- No. What's happened?

Orla Flanagan was the victim
of a serious assault last night.

We'll speak again soon.

Mr Greenwood.

That means a lot.
One of our most valued clients,

we would of course offer you
a highly competitive rate.

Absolutely. I'd be delighted
to crunch some numbers with you.

Who were those guys?

Erm, it's some security checks.

Detectives?

How do you think Jack's doing?

I think he's doing OK.

Good.

I'll keep an eye out.
But knowing Jack, he'll cope.

Any worries, I need to know, yeah?

So, how you doing these days, Craig?

I'm fine, Mr Lawson.

You know, it's funny.
We see each other every day...

but we never really talk.

I mean, not like in the old days.

I guess not.

We really must catch up.

That'd be good.

- Quint?
- I have an address.

Police!

Police!

Clear!

Codeine.

Ibuprofen.

GemCap.

Pat's bandages.

Laptops.

See here?

Blood.

Careful.

William McDonagh's?

Clarissa might be able to do
something with this.

Found two laptops
at Pat Walsh's hideout.

One is Orla's.

Both are password protected.

This one is at least five years old.

A veritable antique.
Shouldn't take too long.

KM test on a substance found on the
corner of Orla's came out positive.

Miss Lawson, Mr Lawson,
I'll see you tomorrow.

Why don't you come in, Craig?
Join us for a drink.

Oh, that's very kind of you,
Mr Lawson, but...

Surely you can spare ten minutes,
Craig?

Erm...

Of course.

I compared the corner of Orla's
laptop with the scan of her

head wound and the linear mark on
the scalp matches the laptop corner.

And those traces of blood are
a match for Orla Flanagan, right?

- Yeah.
- I found fingerprints

from both Pat and Les Walsh
on the laptop.

Right. If you're finished, my turn.

To the bad old days.

- Bad old days.
- The bad old days.

I always trusted you.

Call it blind faith,
call it intuition.

Thank you, sir.

Do you remember
Orla Flanagan, Craig?

The one who wrote those ridiculous
articles about our organisation?

It was on the news this morning

that she was the victim
of a serious assault

and then the police show up,
talking to you.

Is this an interrogation?

Interrogation?

That was your speciality.

A couple of hours alone with you
and they'd all talk.

What was your secret?

I'm sure you don't want to know,
Mr Lawson.

What I do know is

I will not tolerate treachery.

Is that a threat?

Cos I can do threats,
if you like.

Look, I understand.

Talking to people
like Orla Flanagan can be useful.

It lets people know
we're still here.

But I need absolute loyalty.

Can you give me that?

I always did, Mr Lawson.

OK, I'm in.

This laptop was recently connected
to a number of free Wi-Fi sources.

Search history.

Various articles on the Guild.

Most prominently,
Orla Flanagan's articles.

Online conspiracy theories
about possible identities

of members of the Guild.

Unsuccessful searches
for Orla Flanagan's address,

her phone number.

Personal blog.

And that's her street name.

OK.

Malloy most likely killed McDonagh,

but not before McDonagh points him
in the direction of the Guild.

Malloy and his son then track down
the expert on the Guild,

Orla Flanagan,
but what does she tell them?

If she did mention Lawson
or Greenwood by name...

- Anderton.
- Yeah?

Find out the phone number
and London address of

a businessman, Ken Lawson.

I can't do this.

We're really close now, son.

As soon as they confess,
we'll call the police.

Course.

You've done really well, son.

Really well.

Now, just stay sharp
and keep an eye on that door.

Go on.

Who the hell are you?

What do you want?

Malloy?

Niall Malloy.

The Fenian Bomber.

I thought you died years ago.

Did you have a bomb
planted in my car?

If you're referring to old
allegations about the Guild...

Did you sanction
my wife's murder?

How does it feel, Malloy?

Your bombs killed
over 60 innocent civilians.

We would never stoop so low.

Now you know how every
bereaved family member felt.

I believed in the armed struggle.

But it was never easy.

In the end
I couldn't do it any more.

I had to leave.

You're a mass murderer.

I did what I thought
was right at the time.

Oh, is that what you tell yourself
so you can sleep at night?

- Geraldine!
- No, you're just as bad

for doing nothing,
for letting murderers walk free.

Of course. That makes sense.

They've moved on.
But you...

There's nobody more self-righteous
and judgmental than the young.

Only a person who doesn't know what
war is would want to start one.

I'm not starting anything.

People back home want justice.
Strength.

We're going to give it to them.

By killing old men
that nobody cares about?

By making it clear that
no-one gets away with it.

That includes you.

Mr Lawson! Police!

Open up, please!

Don't!

Is all that true?

Niall Malloy,
is that your real name?

- Les.
- Bomb-maker?

We can talk about this later.

You killed 60 innocent people.

Children.

If we let these people live,
they'll come after us.

Killing more people
will not bring justice for Mum.

What's going on?
A gunshot's been fired.

- We think Mr Lawson's still inside.
- OK.

Did you sanction my wife's murder?

This stops now.

No, no, no! Dad, dad.
Dad, stop.

OK? Stop this. This isn't you.

You don't know me.

You never knew me.

OK, maybe I didn't.

But Mum did, didn't she?

She knew who you were.

She knew what you were.

She forgave you.

Because that was Mum.

She was willing to
give you a second chance.

No!

Go!

We also believe that
he shot his father.

That's not possible.

Can I speak to Les?
The kids want to see him.

I'm afraid that will
have to wait, Marie,

but Forensics have finished
examining your house.

You can go back home now.

I know this is very hard.

You can call me
any time you want to talk.

What's happened?

We're going home.

And this is the last file
Orla was working on.

Notes on our chat in the bar,

on her meeting with Ken Lawson's
chauffeur, Craig Greenwood.

In search,
see what else she has on the Guild.

Nothing new here.

What about Niall Malloy?

Does she have anything on him?

E-mails between
Orla and Alex Harris?

Alex Harris?

Let's see.

They're from eight years back.

Alex Harris is asking her about

the Guild's possible involvement in
Malloy's disappearance in the '90s?

Whether she knows anything more
than the official story?

Orla isn't forthcoming.
Asks him why he wants to know.

Oh, my God.

Sir, will you come with us?

Yeah, sure.

December 28.
30 years ago.

An IRA bomb
rips through central Belfast.

Among the victims...

one Andrea Patterson.

According to
the Belfast Telegraph,

Miss Paterson was over for
a holiday with her boyfriend,

an Alex Harris.

Harris survived.

In a brief interview with
the newspaper,

Harris said that his
girlfriend was

five months pregnant with
his child at the time.

The bomb was later attributed to
Republican bomb-maker Niall Malloy.

You live only a few streets down
from Will McDonagh.

You could have recognised him
in the paper, visited him,

found out from him
where Niall Malloy was hiding.

That's a lot of could-haves.

You befriended
Malloy's wife, seduced her,

planned your attack meticulously
but you got it wrong.

Malloy got away.

My client has
nothing further to add.

Did you get that? Plans?

Got it.

Mr Harris...

You went to a lot of trouble
to construct the IED

using the same methods as
Niall Malloy did in the 1980s.

Down to the last detail.

Everything here speaks of a man
who knows exactly what he's doing.

Maybe he set that bomb off precisely
at the moment of his choosing.

You kill a man once and he's gone.

Kill what he loves
and he dies every day.

- MI should know.
- Alex...

You intended to kill
Olivia Walsh.

I followed them.

Waiting for a chance to catch
Olivia on her own in the car.

So Malloy could feel
what I felt.

30 years ago.

Olivia Walsh was innocent
of her husband's crimes.

She protected him.

She was guilty, all right.

Did you act with or on behalf
of a group calling itself the Guild?

I've got a wrapper here
for 500g of Semtex.

The device that killed
Olivia Walsh was about 250g.

I'd say there's about 150g left.

That leaves another
100g of Semtex unaccounted for.

100g of
Semtex unaccounted for.

Where's the second bomb?

Malloy's lost his wife.
His only son is in a prison cell.

That leaves...
Malloy's grandchildren.

Mum, the keys.

I must have left them
in my coat pocket.

Mum! They're in your bag.

All right, you two, go in.

It's not that one. It's this one.

Marie speaking.

See, I told you.

Darling, no!

Get away from the house!

You know, the funny thing is,

if they'd told me the truth
right away, about the IRA,

about the bombs, I'd have
probably helped him anyway,

but I never meant
for anyone to get hurt.

Then why attack Orla Flanagan?

Because she wouldn't talk.

She had her laptop opened

and I could see what story
she was working on,

the Guild, and then Lawson...

So she reached for the gun.
She took my dad's mask off

and I just lashed out
at her with the laptop.

And...

She... She fell.

I tried to find a pulse
but there just wasn't one.

So I tried to give her CPR.

And then we just ran.

We just ran.

Hey.

DC Anderton told me
they'd woken you up.

Hey.

How are you feeling?

Like 50 elephants are
having a rave inside my skull.

Orla, I'm so sorry
I got you into this.

I got myself into it.

Now...

Get me a pen and some paper.

Orla, you need your rest.
You've a fractured skull.

Yeah, I also have
a bloody good story on my hands.

I need to get the details down.

You're a stubborn obsessive,
aren't you, Flanagan?

Takes one to know one, Hodgson.

I mean it.

Pen and paper. Now.

Miss Lawson! Miss Lawson, was the
attack on you politically motivated?

Understandably, my father and I

have been deeply shaken
by this turn of events

and we are extremely grateful to
the police for their heroic efforts.

What this incident does prove
is that the past is still very much

with us and we must seize this
opportunity to face up to that past,

to not sweep it under the carpet
but to bring justice

and new leadership to those people
who feel they're been forgotten.

Hi. Can I help you?

I'm looking for Jack Hodgson.

You must be Mr Hodgson.

Nicki Alexander. Lovely to meet you.

Jack speaks very highly of you,
Dr Alexander.

That's very kind. Come in.
Jack should be back in a minute.

Can I get you a coffee?

Thank you. Black, no sugar.

I hope I'm not interrupting
any important business.

Not at all.

- Thank you.
- Pleasure.

Jack's business
has always been his own.

When he was a boy there was
a big "stay out" sign on his door.

Some things never change.

Sometimes on the news
I see reports of murders,

of innocent people being killed,
and sometimes later that

their killers have been
brought to justice,

and I know...

I know that Jack was involved...

that he's made a difference
to their suffering, and...

That makes me proud.

Hey, Dad.

What are you doing here?

Just out for a walk.

Right.

Shall we get some lunch?

Sure.

- Thank you.
- Pleasure.

Nicki, will you join us?

Uh...

No. I think I'll take a rain check.

Thanks.