[camera beeping]
-[man 1] What brought you? -[man 2] Routine wellness.
Your man's daughter in Lancaster called in.
Said her dad hadn't returned her calls. The door was open when I got here, so…
[man 1] Open or unlocked?
-[man 2] Open. -[camera beeping softly]
[man 2] Body's in the chair.
[man 1 gasps, then sighs]
[man 1] Okay.
[man 3 clears throat]
Well, I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that's the murder weapon.
[man 3] Aye, stabbed in the head, I'd say.
Let's not be hasty, D.I. Hardy.
He could have fallen onto the knife in the kitchen there
and then stumbled back into his favorite chair.
[Hardy] Grabbing the blanket as he went?
-Makes perfect sense. -At least he was comfortable.
[man 1] As for that knife in his head, it's a beauty.
-[man 2] The weapon came from here. -Don't touch that.
Put your fucking hands behind your back, yes?
[man 2] Yes, sir.
How long have you been on the job? A month?
[man 2] Three, sir.
Judging by the flowerpot outside, the same number of times you've puked.
[man 2] It's the smell, sir.
It's not rocket science. Just open a window.
You checked them anyway, right?
[man 2] Che… Checked them?
Yes, checked them.
Are they open? Closed? Locked? Broken?
Is there another door? Does it look forced?
Fucking anything apart from, "Ooh, it smells,"
which we kind of already know.
[Hardy laughs]
[man 2] I was instructed to wait for the team.
[man 1] Then go outside and wait.
Or you could fucking learn something by going and checking on all of that now.
Start with the kitchen, yeah?
Don't touch anything.
[Hardy] Amazing mentor you are.
[man 1] I know. It's a gift.
-[gunshot] -[body drops]
[two gunshots]
-[two bodies drop] -[bullet rolling on floor]
-[somber string music playing] -[bodycam beeping]
[grunting weakly]
[intriguing folk rock playing]
[music builds]
[music softens]
[music builds]
[rowdy chanting] ♪ La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la ♪
♪ La, la, la ♪
[music fades]
[automated voice] You have one new message.
[man] I know you're listening to these messages.
I know you're pretending they don't bother you,
same as you pretend you're a righteous person.
[laughs maniacally]
You're not a righteous person, Merritt.
You're a fucking selfish, manipulative bitch,
and very soon, I'm gonna find you,
rip that black heart out of your chest, and fucking feed it to you.
So enjoy your final moments.
[tense music playing]
[music grows mysterious]
[music fades]
[Merritt] So it was just a coincidence, then,
that on the day before she was planning on moving into a new flat,
your wife, visibly upset, ran out of a restaurant
in which the two of you were previously seen arguing,
and when you got home, she fell down the stairs
and suffered… [inhales nervously]
…two hip fractures,
a broken wrist, multiple lacerations,
as well as the severe head trauma which killed her.
Mr. Finch,
can you not see what we all clearly see?
That this woman clearly didn't fall.
She was pushed
by you.
After you and your wife fought at dinner,
when you discovered she was planning to leave you,
you, to quote your own family,
flew off the handle and pushed her down the stairs.
-I didn't push her down the stairs. -Yes, you did.
[yells] I found her!
[crowd shuffles in seats]
[somber music playing]
[Finch] At the bottom of those stairs.
Dead.
All twisted up.
I can't close my eyes without seeing her like that.
[sighs deeply]
I did not kill my wife,
either on purpose or by accident.
I loved her.
And if she was unhappy with me, with our marriage, as you now imply…
I had no idea.
[breathing nervously]
[Finch] My wife saved my life.
She made me a better person.
Now…
I'm lost.
-[music fades] -[sirens wailing in distance]
[man] When the defense isn't objecting to something they normally would,
one has to think it's a trap.
-Liam. -But… [snickers] …you plowed on.
Someone with more experience might have understood.
What are you on about?
All that about Finch being so violent he clearly threw his wife down the stairs.
[snickers] His counsel just sat there, kept quiet.
Even Finch noticed.
Maybe he didn't object because it's relevant.
-Relevant and admissible are different. -Depends on how one hears it.
The jury heard he loved his wife.
I was supposed to show you the ropes, not help you hang yourself with them.
It's not your fault.
Yeah, I know.
That was all a performance. Finch was full of shite.
The man should win a fucking BAFTA. Nearly had me in tears.
-[car door closes] -[engine starts]
He's not wrong.
He's still raging that you gave me this case and not him.
Well, maybe. But still.
You go too far sometimes. And today was a perfect example.
What was I supposed to do?
You left me hanging. You wouldn't let me use Kirsty's evidence.
She was not going to help you. She would have made it worse, in fact.
-Without her, there was no evidence. -[sighs] There's plenty of evidence.
You had what you yourself described as a slam-dunk case.
And then you proceeded to tell the jury just how convinced you were
that the man in the box was a murderer.
Once the jury gets alone in a room, the facts of the case become the topic,
not how badly the killer might feel or how much love he had for his victim.
No one can say what a jury will do.
-I'm just saying they know he did it. -Do they?
Or do you just expect them to think you're right?
[dark guitar music playing]
I was gonna ask you to join me for a quick drink, but…
I think I just pissed on that idea.
[guitar music continues]
[doors hiss]
[car honking impatiently]
[soft jazz playing on radio]
[slams button]
[elevator hums, dings]
[buttons clicking]
[metallic clank]
Carl Morck?
Dr. Sonnenberg.
I'm Dr. Irving.
Dr. Sonnenberg broke her hip, so I'm filling in.
[metallic clank]
Pick one.
-[heavy silence] -[traffic hums in distance]
[sighs slowly]
[chuckles softly] Dr. Sonnenberg break her hip playing tennis, did she?
An incident in the garden is what they told me.
Go ahead, try one.
I left my racket at home.
They're therapeutic.
You squeeze them.
Calms you down.
-Does it work? -Try it.
[sighs slowly]
[sighs]
Mm.
-Keep it. -Thank you.
Aren't you supposed to ask me some questions?
I can, or we can just keep sitting here. It's your 50 minutes.
[snickers] I was all set to dive into my unhappy childhood.
I'm much more interested in your unhappy adulthood.
[in Scottish accent] "How'd ya feel, Carl?"
More like, how does it feel to get shot, Carl?
I've heard it described as feeling like being stung by 100 bees in the same place.
If the bees were on fire and flying at your face at twice the speed of sound,
you could describe it like that, sure.
You don't look like a shrink.
You prefer I had a beard?
-It would give us something to talk about. -We've got plenty to talk about.
I just don't understand the necessity of all this. I really don't.
[Irving] You don't want to be here?
It's okay. Neither do I. It's a shitty job talking to you lot.
Doesn't sound like you like your job.
Would you like talking to you?
Fair point.
All right. [inhales deeply]
[sighs] I'm tired of "What it feels like to get shot."
-Ask me another question. -You give me permission?
Let's see how it goes.
I see in your file you're on an antidepressant.
-That's in my file? -Among other things.
-Such as? -I've only glanced at it.
Have you been feeling depressed, Carl?
No more than normal.
If I was shot in the face, I might feel depressed.
-I might feel angry. -Not me.
-All good, then? -From my end, yeah.
[Irving] No need to ask about anxiety or sleep problems
because, of course, you've experienced none of that.
-I don't sleep much anyway. -[Irving] Mm-hmm.
So this is just a giant waste of our time.
Those are your words, not mine.
[snickers]
Okay. I get your point about talking to police officers.
Really? Just gonna eat that in front of me?
It's normally my lunch hour, but I wanted to fit you in.
That was before I heard how well you were doing.
I said I got your point.
The truth is, Carl, a computer could just as easily tell you
that after the incident in Leith Park,
you're gonna have problems interacting with other human beings.
And at some point, you might need some help.
I had problems with other human beings before I was shot.
Yeah.
The phrase "superiority complex"
seems to be the overall theme of your personnel file.
-Is that the file you barely glanced at? -I didn't say "barely."
Are you superior, Carl, to other people?
Well, it's a low bar, isn't it?
Wow.
[tense string music playing]
[man] I will now read from a statement written by Caroline Kerr, witness.
[music continues softly]
"On the morning of October 17th,
I was walking with my eight-month-old through Leith Park
when I observed a man in dark clothing go into the back door of flat number 226."
"Approximately five minutes later, I saw the man exit the flat
and walk to a blue compact car of a make I couldn't identify."
-[indistinct chatter] -[music continues]
[chatter stops]
[man] This was your statement 4 months ago.
I know.
But now I've had some time to think about it,
I'm not sure it was the same flat.
[man] You said you were positive.
[Caroline] I made a mistake.
Caroline, a policeman is dead.
Another policeman's paralyzed.
And I'm very sorry.
[man] If someone's threatened you,
told you to change your statement, we can protect you.
No one threatened me. I thought I was sure, but I'm not.
-Caroline, you saw a man. -No. I only thought I did.
I'm very sorry.
[indistinct chatter]
-[indistinct voice on police radio] -[telephone ringing]
God, I don't think I'm ready for you to be back so soon, Carl.
Hello, Rose.
[exasperated sigh]
-Your face isn't sagging. -Excuse me?
Well, I thought one side of your face would be all… saggy.
I didn't have a stroke. I was shot.
Hmm. Is there a scar or anything?
[Carl inhales deeply]
[sighing] In there, out there.
-[Rose] Nice. -[Carl] Mm.
At least you don't need a wee helmet like my nephew.
-Is she in? -Do I look like a PA?
-[Carl] Yeah, you do. -[sighs]
Maybe you saw her leave, perhaps heard where she was going.
Sorry.
[Carl] Who's that?
[Rose] Moira's stalker.
[chuckles] Nah, he's just after a job. Brings me these if I let him sit there.
They're gonna rot your teeth.
[Rose sighs]
Lovely to have you back, Carl.
See ya.
-Prick. -Heard that.
Meant you to.
Oh, for fuck's sake! This is why I wanted her out the press.
"Mother and baby in pushchair witness murder."
We practically led them to her door.
[man] It's possible they saw her at the scene.
Recognized her later on.
[woman] Well, she was your only witness. So now what?
[man] We just need time.
You've had four months.
And maybe some more manpower.
[woman] D.C.I. Morck's back today.
[man] Could you not give us time to prepare?
[woman] There's no preparing for Carl.
Jesus, Carl!
You asked to see me.
An hour ago.
[in Scottish accent] D.C.I. Brrrruce.
Carl. Welcome back.
Good to see ya. You look--
Like shite?
-Not quite that good. -[Carl] Mm.
I'm sorry I didn't die, Logan.
I'll get over it.
-We really are glad to have you back. -I assume by "we," you mean no one.
We should talk about Leith Park.
I know all about it. I was there.
-I meant the investigation. -So did I.
I'm guessing nothing from the fragments that came out of the wall,
no prints or DNA beyond those belonging to me, D.I. Hardy, and Anderson,
no CCTV, and no cooperating witnesses. Is that about right?
We had one until about five minutes ago.
Wow.
Keep up the good work.
The place had been wiped ahead of time. It seemed pre-planned, organized by a pro.
-A pro wouldn't leave Hardy or me alive. -[Logan] Backup had arrived.
-[Carl] How do you know? -I was with 'em.
-Did you see the shooter? -No.
Well, I'm back.
So I'll take Wilson and Clark off your hands, and we'll just start over.
Get your own f--
Lovely to see you, Carl.
[sighs] Sorry.
-You can't investigate your own shooting. -I know. I just wanted to see his face.
Do you ever stop and wonder why people hate you?
No.
[indistinct chatter]
[exhales heavily]
[intriguing string music playing]
[exhales heavily]
[music saddens]
[Carl] Okay, so?
[Hardy] It never crossed the line.
[Carl] The referee gave it.
No, the linesman gave it.
Yeah, so it was a goal.
No, the linesman gave it because he was Russian.
Why the fuck would he?
It was the Cold War. The fucking Russians hated us.
I know, but they hated the Germans more. We're talking 1966.
It was 20 years after the war. Also…
Also what?
Also, the Germans beat the Soviets in the semi-final.
So the linesman had a score to settle, didn't he?
Even if any of this Tartan Army conspiracy bullshit was true,
which it's fucking not, it's irrelevant because England scored again.
-We won 4-2. Bosh. -[Hardy] Aye.
Because the Germans were pressing for an equalizer,
which they shouldn't have been because your third goal was never a goal.
-What do you think of that? -I say get over it.
We won. Why can't you let it go?
-Good morning, sirs. -Hang on, mate.
It's the fucking attitude we hate. Commentators banging on about 1966.
You hate the fact that England won and you never will because you're shit.
You can't even qualify, let alone win.
Fucking Uruguay won it twice before your lot did.
You don't see them acting all Billy Big Baws about it 60 years later.
D.I. Hardy, D.C.I. Morck.
Anderson, sir. Where's the rest of you?
On the way, I'd imagine. What are we looking at?
Dead male. Sixties, best I could tell. I… I didn't get too close.
-How do you know he's dead? -It's kind of obvious.
-[Hardy] Obvious? -The smell, sir, and, um…
-[snickers] You'll know when you see him. -[Carl] What brought you?
[Anderson] Routine wellness.
Your man's daughter in Lancaster called in.
Said her dad hadn't returned her calls for a couple of days.
The door was open when I got here.
-[Carl] Open or unlocked? -Open.
-What do you think? Wait for the boys? -So youse aren't the response unit?
We were nearby. Thought we'd take a look. That okay?
[dark string music playing]
Might as well do.
[Anderson] Body's in the chair.
[audio distorts, speeds up]
[Anderson] Ch… Checked them?
Yes, checked them.
Are they open? Closed? Locked? Broken?
Is there another door? Does it look forced?
Fucking anything apart from, "Ooh, it smells,"
which we kind of already know.
I was instructed to wait for the team.
[bodycam beeping softly]
[Carl exhales slowly]
[Carl] Either go back outside and wait or learn something
and go and check all of that now, starting with the kitchen.
[voice echoes hauntingly]
Sir.
[Carl] Don't touch anything.
Amazing mentor you are.
I know. It's a gift.
[gunshot]
[dark string music continues]
[mouse clicks twice]
[gunshot]
[two gunshots]
[mouse clicks]
[music builds ominously]
[audio distorts, speeds up]
[dampened gunshots]
[dampened gunshot]
[two dampened gunshots]
[music subsides]
[music continues softly]
-[high-pitched ring] -[muffled indistinct chatter]
[pills rattling]
[water pouring]
[breathing shakily]
[Anderson] Anderson, sir.
[Carl] How long you been on the job? A month?
[Anderson] Three, sir.
[Carl breathes shakily]
-[snickering, indistinct mumbling] -[music fades]
[Clark mutters] There's nothing like a bit of a shoot-out to age the fuck out of you.
A total fucking cock-up.
First, they roll up on a scene that's not even theirs.
Then they march straight into a fucking ambush.
Real question is why they decided to show up in the first place.
Morck can't fucking help himself.
Has--
[measured footsteps]
Is this the car?
Simple yes or no.
Is this the car the witness said she saw the shooter get out of?
Yes, but she's not a witness anymore.
-She recanted, but she's still a witness. -Can't use her in court.
We're not the fucking courts, are we?
-What's this here? -[Wilson] What's what where?
[Carl inhales deeply]
Where's the nearest McDonald's?
There's one by the station.
Not here.
Near fucking Leith Park.
There's one on Market Road.
[Carl] Did you check the CCTV?
Okay. Come here.
What does this look like?
-That could be anyone's. -[Carl] Could be.
It wasn't listed by forensics.
Well, that's two fuckups, then.
What else do you see? What about you?
Uh, bag and the cup. They weren't there before the car got there.
It'd be good to see if the CCTV at the McDonald's caught
a guy in black buying a milkshake, no?
Why would the shooter leave the scene then come back?
Wrong question. Why did he stay?
[sighs] The shooter was watching to see who showed up.
How do you know that?
[Carl] What other explanation is there?
Our theory is that these are two separate crimes.
One shooting, one stabbing.
-[Carl] Yeah, I'm not sure. -Why not?
That means that's two separate crimes you've gotten fucking nowhere with.
Focus on the shooter. Focus on what the fuck he actually did that day.
You've got it all up here.
And check the CCTV at the McDonald's.
Please.
[man] Homicide rates are up.
Holyrood is accusing us of letting too much slip through the net.
I suppose we should work a little harder at solving crimes. I'll get right on that.
-Anything else? -Moira--
Seriously, Jonathan? Et tu?
No one's accusing you of anything. We're just having a conversation.
One that began with, "So, Moira, tell us, what's up with your miserable solve rate?"
You disagree with the numbers?
Not at all, but we have MITs working without crime scene officers.
Two forensic experts across a whole department.
I'm aware of the financial issues.
But there's some concern about public perception.
Perception is neither my problem nor my department.
Figuring out how to spend what money I don't have
on actual investigations is.
I'm assuming you know about the Windley case up in Aberdeen.
All I know is what I've read.
Some police officer, retired now, who never let it go.
Sixteen years without a solve
until they get a DNA hit from a trace off her clothes.
Can't wait for the podcast.
Exactly. That was good optics.
Killer's been put away years after they thought they'd gotten away.
Personally, I think it's better we put them away sooner.
The cabinet secretary is proposing we establish a new department.
One that's focused on examining similar cases
which might serve the public's interest.
Doesn't the solving of every case serve the public interest?
[man] You're a good officer, Moira,
but sometimes you forget the wider picture.
I need to be solving the cases on my desk yesterday,
not ones from before I was born.
I've barely got enough detectives to cover the ground as it is,
let alone a new department.
I should mention the department will have its own budget.
What sort of budget?
A substantial one.
Depending on the cases you choose. Bigger profile the better.
The Crown Office has put together a list of cases to consider.
And, of course, you'd have an advocate at your disposal.
I'll have full discretion over all of it, cases and budget?
It's your department.
[exhales] Mm. I suppose I could make that work.
-[laughs] -[hands thump desk]
Good.
[man chuckles]
Now, who do you have in mind for the job?
-[intriguing folk rock playing] -[sighs]
[music continues]
[knocks]
[indistinct football commentary on TV]
[music fades]
-Only me. -[fans cheering]
[man 1] That could be a massive moment in this game.
[man 2] It could indeed or could indeed now.
John Harrow breaks at pace. Here comes McCabe, striding…
[referee whistle blows]
[man 2] Off the bar.
[man 1] You could hear the woodwork.
That was nearly a goal of the season contender.
[man 1] Harrow still presses. Ball comes back to McCabe on the left.
[strained sigh]
[fans roar]
[man 1] Yeah, it is Scott Castle makes no mistake this time. That was a…
I went back today.
Nothing's changed. All fucking morons.
I think I'm gonna put my time in and be done with it.
And then, who knows? Maybe I'll just hang out with you.
Argue about football.
[melancholy string music playing]
[clicks tongue]
-[music continues] -[no audible dialogue]
[Carl sighs]
[music continues]
-[door closes] -[liquid bubbling]
[Merritt] Smells good.
-It's nearly done. -[keys jangle]
[cork pops]
-It's been a long day, I'm sure. -[liquid pouring]
[forceful gulp]
[Merritt] I'll take it from here.
I firmly believe that those who commit violent crime
don't ever truly get away with it.
Um, the court might set them free,
but be it conscience, karma, or the universe,
they are, ultimately, one way or another, punished for what they've done.
[anchor] That was Merritt Lingard,
the lead prosecutor in the Graham Finch trial,
which reaches its conclusion…
[man groans angrily]
You're not gonna make me watch that nonsense?
Oh, I see.
-[man taps remote] -Your choice.
As long as it's got nothing to do with criminals or courts.
[canned laughter on TV]
[woman sings softly] ♪ Oh, blow ye winds over the ocean ♪
♪ Oh, blow ye winds over the sea ♪
♪ Oh, blow ye winds over the ocean ♪
♪ And bring back my Bonnie to me ♪
You're still here.
[woman] Oh, it was no trouble. He's all set now.
That's very nice of you.
-I'll just get my coat. -[Merritt] My brother is a grown man.
He's not a child.
Of course.
I'm saying that he's not your baby boy.
-I know. -What?
I know he's not my baby boy.
Then treat him as such.
Yeah.
-[melancholy guitar music playing] -[breathes nervously]
[doors hiss]
[guitar music fades]
["Run em Down" by Graham Lake ft. Avelino playing]
[thumping dance music grows louder]
♪ I might be ahead of you ♪
♪ You should be the better you ♪
♪ You should be ahead of you ♪
♪ Stop listening ♪
♪ I'ma run 'em down Down, down, down, down ♪
♪ You still hang around 'Cause you see me in a crown ♪
-[pills rattle] -♪ I'm running out, out, out, out ♪
♪ Ain't got time for another rebound ♪
♪ I'ma run 'em down… ♪
[opera music playing over dance music]
[yells] Martin!
[opera music grows louder]
-I don't know what you expect from me. -Could you turn it down?
I could, yes. You need to talk to him first.
I don't pay £500 a month to have my ears bled out.
-It's bad enough he eats all my food. -I can't hear you.
I'm serious. I get that he hates you. Has he really gotta take it out on me?
I'm trying to work.
Work? Oh, you got a job, then?
Can't hear you.
[door slams]
-[dance music grows louder] -♪ I'ma run 'em down, down, down… ♪
♪ You still hang around 'Cause you see me in a crown… ♪
[music stops]
-[boy] What the fuck? -The house is on fire.
-[boy] Fuck off. I'd smell the smoke. -This room is disgusting.
[opera music continues faintly]
So what? This whole place, it's just a dump.
You could get off your arse and clean it
because Martin is not a parlor maid, you know?
Yeah, well, I've got homework, so…
Biology?
Turn it down,
or I will throw everything in this room out of the fucking window.
[boy] You're a prick.
So I keep hearing.
[suspenseful music playing]
[door slams]
[rapid typing]
[music builds]
[music subsides, lingers ominously]
-[music fades] -[indistinct chatter]
-[man] Good morning, madam. -Who are you?
Uh, I'm Akram Salim. I've been waiting to see you.
And the wait continues. I'm very busy.
Yes, I work part-time in admin, mostly IT,
but I was hoping I might move into your department.
-Uh, I have experience back home in Syria. -Speak to recruitment.
Yes. They say nothing is available, but if you just give me a moment--
I'm afraid there's no path for you here, then.
How did he get in here?
-Um… -Is that a pass I see?
No, he just, um…
[Moira] He works in IT. He's not allowed in this part of the building.
If you try these, you'll understand.
[Moira] Get rid of him.
[indistinct chatter, giggling]
You're a cop.
Who says?
That thing round your neck. Have you shot anyone?
Not today.
[boy exhales in awe]
Have you seen dead bodies?
A few.
-I saw my granda dead. -Yeah?
He pished himself.
You didn't kill him, did you?
Nah. My mum said it was all the Tennent's and crisps that got him.
That's not a bad way to go.
Whoa. My own department?
Congratulations.
Are you joking?
It's been commissioned by the cabinet secretary himself.
-Really? -[Moira] Yeah.
You'll be reviewing cold cases from all over the country.
There's a list here from the Crown Office.
You can pick whichever ones you want.
And you'd have your own contact there.
Contact? What, some… lawyer?
If you'd like.
Who exactly will I be in charge of?
Just you.
A department of just me?
Oh, you'll have an office, whatever resources you need.
I'll need a car.
[chuckles]
No, we can't just give you a car. This isn't The Price is Right.
I'd be reviewing cases all over the country.
What if I get one in Inverness? Do you expect me to take a bus?
I'll see what I can do.
So can I tell the deputy chief constable that you're on board?
Where's this office?
-[draw rolls open] -[keys jangle]
Q? Where the hell's that?
Downstairs.
The offices are numbered downstairs, Moira.
I meant, downstairs downstairs.
[elevator humming]
[metallic thud]
-[elevator dings] -[doors screech]
[low, rattling hum]
Fucking hell.
[distant clanking]
[liquid sloshing through pipes]
[doors screech]
[metallic clatter]
[elevator humming]
-[light switch clacks] -[electric flickering]
[lights buzzing softly]
[eerie metallic rattling]
[distant knocking echoes]
[water trickling]
[deep, echoed grinding]
[distant knocking echoes]
[doors creak]
[chuckles]
[pensive acoustic guitar music playing]
[doors creak]
[dull thud of footsteps]
[Carl] Jesus.
[faucet squeaks]
[water splutters, gurgles]
[sighs] Yeah.
-This'll do. -[music fades]
I can't let you in here anymore. Boss's orders.
Turns out she doesn't have a sweet tooth.
[sighs] Those were amazing.
My wife's special recipe.
She would be pleased you like them.
And thank you for your hospitality.
Oh, um, I'm gonna need that, um…
-Oh, right. -[Rose] …pass.
[Rose sighs] Thanks.
Good luck.
[sighs]
[water trickling faintly]
[loud thud]
Fuck, Rose!
Chief wanted me to tell you
she looks forward to hearing which one you pick first.
-[sniffs loudly] -Oh, great.
[thud]
What you working on?
I was working on taking a fucking nap.
You're probably gonna need help getting through all these.
-[clicks tongue] You're absolutely right. -[Rose] Mm.
Uh, that's not what I…
[mutters] Fuck.
[Moira] I want one new computer and one new telephone on every desk.
And put your old telephones into this wee bin here.
[Carl] All right?
Uh, Moira?
Hi! Oh.
-Fuck's sake. -[Carl] Hi.
You can't expect me to go through those files.
[scoffs] You only have to choose one.
There's decades' worth of evidence down there. I'd need a team.
I thought you understood it was just you. You're more than capable.
Uh, that big telly, into my office, and the chair behind my desk.
We're just, uh, moving things around.
You said the cabinet secretary himself requested this department.
That the reputation of the force was on the line.
Well, I think that's overstating.
Well, let's invite him down to my office, shall we?
We can sit on the urinals and talk it out.
-[Carl chuckles] -[Moira sighs]
Fine. I'll find you an assistant to lighten the load, okay?
Mm. Oh, by the way, it was never meant to be an office,
so anything you could do on the refurbishment budget.
-If there's anything left. -[Moira] Don't push your luck.
I want the first case for the end of the week.
Yeah, yeah.
[man] In the High Court of Justiciary, court number six,
Her Majesty's advocates against Graham Finch.
Would the spokesperson of the jury please rise?
Have you reached your verdict?
[woman] We have.
[man] And what is your verdict under the charge of murder?
[woman] We find the charge not proven.
[judge] Mr. Finch…
you have been acquitted by the jury and are now discharged from the dock.
[man] Court.
[dark string music playing]
[music continues]
-[camera shutters clicking] -[indistinct shouting]
Ladies and gentlemen, if I may.
This has obviously been a very emotive case for all concerned.
The Crown wishes it had gone in a different direction,
and we will now consider our options moving forward.
-Go. -[driver] Where?
Anywhere. Just go.
[phone vibrates]
[music fades]
[labored breathing]
[strained whimpering]
Hello?
-Sir? -[strained whimpering]
Okay. Push, push!
-[clatter] -[Carl grunts]
[breathing heavily]
Oh, sorry.
[Carl] Who are you?
I have been sent from upstairs. I'm your new assistant.
[groans]
Akram Salim.
[telephone rings]
D.C. Dixon.
Why do I feel like I've got you to thank?
I take it you've met Akram.
Is this some kind of sick joke, yeah?
He's very, um… eager.
Yeah, which is code for pain in the arse.
Oh, you two should get along wonderfully, then.
[mutters] Oh, you have…
[breathes deeply]
-Akram, yeah? -[Akram] Yes, sir.
It's Carl. Not "sir." I'm very busy. There's a lot to be done.
That's why I'm here, sir. Carl.
Good. There's a mop and bucket in the other room. This place is a mess.
Then I want you to go upstairs and get me a…
a computer and one of those new TVs, yeah?
That's everything?
For now.
[sighs]
[phone vibrates]
D.C.I. Morck.
[tense percussive music playing]
[out of breath] Hey. It's me.
They said you fell out of bed. Found you on the floor by the window.
Don't you know Scottish air will kill you?
[Carl chuckles]
-[somber string music playing] -[breathes heavily]
-Fuck off. -Please, mate.
Fuck's sake, please.
We'll figure it out, okay? Like we always do together. I promise.
[woman] Is that Carl Morck?
[Carl, lively] Hey.
-[boy] Dad. -[Carl] Hey!
[somber music drowns out speech]
[engine stops]
[music grows darker]
[Merritt] Hello.
Hello?
Claire?
Claire? What's…?
I've been trying to call you. You're late.
[sobbing quietly]
-[thud] -[Merritt] William.
[gentle guitar music playing]
[thud]
[softly] Can I see?
[William sniffs, sobs]
No. It's okay. Gentle, gentle, gentle.
[William sobbing]
What's that? Dad's boat?
[grunts softly]
I don't know about you, but I am so tired.
So maybe we should get away for a little while.
Change of scenery. What do you think?
[catches breath]
[breathing deeply]
[Merritt] I'm sorry I wasn't here.
[music fades]
[measured footsteps]
[water droplets echoing]
Oi! What the fuck are you doing?
Oh.
I'm sorry, sir. I wanted to understand what you do.
Those are confidential.
Upstairs they say it's a new department, but no one told me.
Now I read them, I understand.
-You read them? -Yes.
-What, all of them? -Many of them.
Very interesting cases. Murders, kidnappings, rapes, assaults.
-I think many are good mysteries. -"Good."
Worthy.
At home in Syria, there are a lot of cases like this.
Unsolved. People go missing. No one knows anything about it.
I was the only one looking.
-What, you worked for the police? -Sort of.
Sort of?
[Akram] Well, it's, uh…
it's complicated.
You will solve these cases?
Who knows?
-[Akram] Which will you work on? -I don't know. I'm supposed to choose one.
There are many that can be solved.
And you know that just from what? Just reading them, yeah?
Don't you, when you read a file?
Sometimes you're able to just know.
I haven't read 'em.
Perhaps, then, I could assist you. Read through all of them.
It's not your job, is it?
Put 'em away.
[Carl] Look.
Since you can actually read a file,
and clearly a fuck sight better than you mop the floor,
you could sort them out for me.
Yeah? Categorize them. We'll call it…
[sighs]
…administrative work.
-I can do that. -Great.
[Akram] Oh, uh…
The boss said you are to park in the back,
not in the disabled space.
[pensive string music playing]
[seagulls cawing]
…and apparently, I'm to solve some fancy cold case of my own choosing,
as long as it makes Moira look good, which is bullshit
because she'll spend it on her own fucking unit.
-[football fans cheering on TV] -[Carl sighs]
Look at us, fuck's sake.
You wanna kill yourself. I wanna kill everyone else.
Talk about one and one equals fucking zero.
[pensive music continues]
[Carl] We need to figure something out, soon.
As much as I'd love to, I can't give up on Jasper.
I sure can't give up on you.
So outside of me putting a pillow over your face, I don't know what we do.
[indistinct football commentary on TV]
You can give me one of those beers…
[TV turns off]
…and tell me more about this new department.
[rousing string music playing]
[rousing music continues]
[slow-motion thud]
[rousing music continues]
[Merritt] N-n-n-no!
William, n-n-no. You can't have it back. It's gone.
-You can't have it back. -[William grunting]
William! You can't have it back.
You shouldn't have done it.
-[fleshy thud] -[Merritt groans]
[Merritt breathing heavily]
[Merritt sighs in shock]
[music darkens]
[Merritt coughing, panting]
[rousing music continues]
[button clicks]
[tapping rhythmically]
[engine rumbles]
[music fades]
[Akram] We can find her.
She's gone four years now.
So?
She's dead.
I don't think so.
That what your gut tells you?
It's what the file tells me.
[bright string music playing]
Nah, it's a loser.
-[music intensifies] -[low, grinding hum]
[dull thud of footsteps]
[music softens]
-[metallic click] -[high-pitched electric buzzing]
-[metallic clank] -[low rumbling]
[distant thudding]
[sighs]
-[grunts] -[music subsides]
[breathing heavily]
[metallic click]
[sniffs]
[sighs]
-[speaker crackling] -[deep, distorted voice] Morning, Merritt.
["Yare Yare" by LXNGVX and LOSTOV playing]
[music dampens, bass thumps]
[low electric buzzing]
[grungy dance music fades]
["Yare Yare" resumes]
[music fades]