Sorry to bother you, sir. Could you have a look
at these two pictures and tell me...
DS Penhaligon from Anson Road Police Station.
Sorry to bother you, sir. I wonder
if you could look at these two pictures and...
Who Didn't Didn't? - If you're so bloody nosy,
- why don't you answer it, you bone - idle bitch?
I was busy.
- I were on the lav. - You're always on the bloody lav!
Has anyone had a severe haircut...
He spends every bloody minute of every bloody day on that bloody lav!
Shut your stupid face, you cow!
Looking at his bloody horses!
- I'm trying to talk to somebody. Do you mind?
If they went as well as his bowels, he'd be a millionaire!
If you could just take a look...
Severe? You mean, shaved, like?
Yeah.
- There's a bloke across the road. - Which house?
No. 37. There's a copper there now.
Is he in?
Could this be him?
That could be anybody.
Mind you, that gives you flexibility, that, don't it,
for stitching people up.
You've got cobwebs in your coving.
Come on.
Want a piggyback?
That's it.
Look what I did.
Oh, it's lovely, pet. Go in.
- She never recognised me! - I'm not surprised. What have you done?
Don't you like it?
I hate it.
A fella was mouthing off at work about United.
I said if they beat Leeds, I'd shave my head.
You enjoy it, for God's sake! Why don't you just admit it?
I do not enjoy it!
Other people's suffering and grief
- you enjoy the emotional intensity of it.
I enjoy my job.
It'll abolish all death, all suffering. Do you want it, Judith?
- Yes! - No more famine, rape or murder?
You would be bored stiff! Can you bear that?
You couldn't! They're an intellectual challenge to you.
No San Francisco earthquake? No planes falling out of the sky?
Just Sainsbury's on Saturday, polish the
car on Sunday, John Major the rest of the week!
You need crime, Fitz. You need to solve it
and you've got the bloody cheek to question my motives!
We had this argument 20 years ago,
when you and your friends were having orgasms over Vietnam.
- That was different! - No, it wasn't!
Motive - that's the important thing.
- Bullshit! - Motive. Motive.
What drives people to do the things they do?
What are they getting out of it?
Bullshit! You know your trouble, Fitz?
You've never really gone without anything.
Oh, a smoke and a drink, yes.
But anything of substance
- food, shelter... No, you've never gone without.
How dare you talk to me like this!
If you were starving in the Third World
or at the end of the road
and I came along and offered you food,
you'd take it.
You wouldn't give a damn about my motives.
You'd take it and eat it and stay alive.
All this agonising over motive, Fitz.
You know what it is? Bourgeois Western luxury!
Come to bed with me.
Of course I feel good when I help people.
Of course I get a kick out of it!
But that does not take away from the fact that I have helped somebody.
Come to bed with me.
Only if you carry me up.
You look tired.
I haven't been sleeping.
I thought I'd sleep for a week when it was all over.
When he was buried, and that, but...
You don't have to work nights any more. You could go back to the quarry.
I was proud of you, the way you looked after him.
- He was my father! - Yeah, I know, but other sons...
Look, you hated him, so forget it.
- I didn't hate him! - Forget it!
Right.
- I'm sorry. - Right.
Look, er...
Here's your money.
Ta.
It's the bare amount. Bad week.
Nah, that's all right.
What?
Your head.
It makes me look how I feel.
Bye.
Albert Kinsella?
- Yeah? - DS Beck. You got a minute?
- Yeah. - Can we go inside?
I'd sooner talk here.
I'd sooner talk inside, please, Mr Kinsella.
It's... a bit of a mess, that's all.
I'm used to it. I'm a bit of a slob myself.
Right.
What's this about?
- Are you married? - No.
- Divorced? - No.
Do you live alone?
Yeah.
What's this about?
- Well, there's nothing wrong with it. - What?
You said the place was a bit of a mess.
Looks all right to me.
Do you mind?
No er...
Look, what's this about?
We're interviewing men who've recently had their heads shaved.
Sorry. Should've asked.
It's all right.
I haven't had my head shaven.
Well, you're in for a bit of a shock when you look in the mirror.
It fell out.
I've got cancer.
I'm on chemotherapy.
I'm an outpatient at Stonefield.
- You're not working, then? - I'm on invalidity.
I'm sorry.
I'll put this out.
- It's OK. - No, I want to.
Here.
Kittens?
Yeah.
I should've got rid of them,
but I didn't have the heart.
Thanks all the same. Sorry to bother you.
It's OK.
- Where are you from? - Saint Helens.
- Liverpool supporter? - Everton.
Oh. Beats chemotherapy, I suppose - just.
- See you. - See you.
Right, you!
Upstairs on that bed, stark naked, right now!
- It's got nothing to do with you. - It's got plenty to do with me!
- It hasn't, and will you keep your voice down!
No, I won't. She's my mother.
And because of you she won't come home,
- so what you're doing is affecting me, and Katie!
- You feel strongly about that, do you?
- I do, yeah. - Eight items...
You know you don't, Mark. You'd have gone with her if you did.
You put your mates and your local boozer before her!
- You really believe that? - I know that!
Eight items.
I didn't go with her because I want her to come home!
If I stay, she's got to keep in touch - that's why I didn't go with her!
I don't believe you.
Course not. You like to think the worst of everyone, don't you?
Er, eight items.
I've got eight items!
No, you haven't.
- Three bottles of whisky constitutes one item.
Three items.
One item. Two loaves of bread constitutes one item.
- Two dozen eggs constitutes one item. - Two and two.
Six frozen lasagnes
constitutes one item.
Six?
Four Cornish pasties constitutes one item.
Could you call the supervisor?
And three steak-and-kidney bastard pies also constitutes one bloody item!
Oh, for God's sake!
Kinsella, Albert.
- 2 Ls? - Yeah.
37, Oundle Street.
He's on the other list.
He's in the clear.
Works nights,
Armitage & Dears. He's on the right bus route.
He's been off sick for months.
He's got cancer.
- Did you check? - Yes.
With the employer?
I saw the letters from the hospital. Don't
teach your grandmother how to suck eggs.
He's got a cat and kittens, for God's sake!
He wouldn't harm a fly!
Do I know you?
We're going to get some chocolate.
We're going to get some...
That man!
Wait in the car.
Are you sure?
Thank you.
He hasn't missed work in the last two years.
You're a DCI.
I'm going to kill a lot of bizzies,
but I thought I'd start at the top.
Please help me.
Well, I'd like to, but I'm a bit pushed.
You know how Didn't Didn't.
I've got a wife and child.
I had a wife and child once.
Bilborough to Control.
Control receiving. Over.
I've been stabbed.
State your position. Over.
I don't know my position. I chased a man. I'm in his house.
Can you see a phone? Over.
No. I'm going to the front.
I'm losing a lot of blood. Moving makes it worse.
Letters, envelopes. Something with an address.
Any letters around? Envelopes?
Nothing! Every time I move, it opens up the wound.
Stay still.
Stay still. Press on the wound.
How bad is it?
I'm dying.
I'm in the hall.
Where did you chase him from?
Supermarket. Bridge Road.
We ran for about half a mile.
All units proceed to within half a mile of Bridge Road.
DCI Bilborough badly wounded. Exact location unknown.
I'm at the door.
Don't try and move any more.
He's bald.
Brown eyes, combat jacket. Get the bastard.
Help me.
Is there a street sign or a landmark?
Anything like that?
Nothing.
There's nobody in the street.
There's not a bloody soul.
Dhd he have a cat and kittens?
Did he have a cat and kittens?
- Yeah. - Oundle Street.
All units to Oundle Street.
Ambulance on his way.
This is evidence.
This is a dying mars statement.
I know what a defence lawyer will try to do.
I'm of sound mind.
I'm frightened, yeah. I don't want to die.
I'm frightened but I'm thinking straight.
He had a photocopy of Nolan pinned to the wall.
Knock on a door.
He fully intended to kill me.
- He stabbed me. - Knock on a bloody door.
I can't get up the steps!
He stabbed me in cold blood.
Are you listening to me?
I want you to get this bastard, Jimmy, OK?
For me and Catriona.
Get the bastard!
Catriona...
Oh, God, Catriona...
What are we going to tell her?
Boss?
Sir...
Please, don't tell anyone.
Please, Jane...
Please.
DCI Wise, DS Beck.
Yes.
- You were close, yeah? - Yeah.
I'm really sorry.
Thanks.
That mars hurt him?
Yes.
Badly?
Yes.
I'm sorry, Catriona.
David's dead.
There's a gang of kids in the alley.
- Get rid of them. Seal it off. - Yeah.
The lad playing in the street - find him, take his statement.
Right.
- Are you OK? - Yeah.
And when you've done that, go and have a pint.
Thanks.
What do you think you're doing?
Mind your own business.
It Didn't my business.
What are you doing?
He touched me.
Sorry?
That man - he touched me.
Yeah, I'm at the house now.
As well as can be expected.
She needs someone to speak to.
I suggested the doctor. She doesn't want hhm.
Albert Kinsella, 37, Oundle Street?
Yeah.
He's dead.
I spoke to him yesterday.
May I?
They're genuine.
Early 30s, yeah?
Died 14th March 1994, aged 68.
His son.
I spoke to his bloody son!
Possibly.
With people like you on his tail, Lord Lucan must be worried sick!
He used me.
He knew how I'd react.
He knew how David would react.
I was nothing.
I was just something he used to kill David.
He didn't use you.
He just used the fact that you loved each other.
You've nothing to feel guilty about.
You fell out with him.
Yes.
He told me about Didn't.
He used to come home, get straight in the shower.
He "swam through filth all day", he said.
He had to wash Didn't off.
Didn't want to tread it through the house.
He wouldn't lock up an innocent man.
He wouldn't do that and come home to us.
I know that.
I was wrong.
I'm sorry.
Police.
What do you want?
What's going on?
What is going on?
- We're looking for your husband, Mrs Kinsella.
I haven't got a husband.
Your ex-husband.
- Well, you won't find him in there! - Move away, please, Mrs Kinsella.
I... I haven't seen him for years.
You're lying.
Will you get out of my house, please?
Will you all just get out of my bloody house right now?
Sit down and shut your bloody mouth!
- Your husband picks your daughter up... - Ex-husband.
Your ex-husband picks your daughter up from school every Friday.
But you told DS Beck that you haven't seen him in years!
Why did you lie?
Your ex is a killer.
I don't believe you.
He's killed three people.
I don't believe you.
- This way. - Yeah, I know.
Come in.
Sit down.
You've made your point.
- Come again? - You're in charge. Point made.
- I'm reading about you. - Any dirty bits?
- You've had results. - So have Arsenal.
Your results are my results, OK?
I get the Brownie points. You get the money.
This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
I doubt it, lad.
This Didn't evidence.
This Didn't a dying mars statement.
I know what a defence lawyer will try to do.
Can't believe it, eh?
Not Albie.
Albie's got principles.
I'm of sound mind. I'm frightened, yeah. I don't want to die.
I'm frightened but I'm thinking straight.
Albie's been working nights for years, turning up the money every single week.
Even when you were separated, the money was always there.
Every week.
Not Albie.
He had a photocopy of Nolan
pinned to the wall.
He fully intended to kill me.
He stabbed me.
I can't get up the steps!
Even if he did do it, you'd understand, wouldn't you?
You'd know exactly why he did it.
We wouldn't. We just look at this
and this...
...and this...
and put him down for life. Mm?
I want you to get this bastard, Jimmy, OK?
For me and Catriona.
Get the bastard!
Did he have a bayonet?
Catriona...
Oh, God, Catriona...
What are we going to tell her?
Dhd that not strike you as odd? Dhd
you never say, "Excuse me, dear, I noticed
you've got a bayonet sticking out of your trousers...
It was his father's.
He didn't carry it around with him.
He kept it in a drawer.
Cutlery?
Where did you meet?
This is DCI Bilborough's wife, Catriona.
This is their wee boy Ryan.
This is all three of them together.
This is DCI Bilborough lying dead in the street. Where did you meet?
The Lakes.
Holiday?
I was working in a hotel.
He was in the quarry.
You still love him?
What went wrong?
You left him in May '89, a few weeks after Hillsborough.
Can you tell me about it?
Please.
Is that what Hillsborough meant to you?
Not 96 deaths, but the end of your marriage?
All that death,
even the death of people you knew,
you couldn't grieve,
cos it was the end of your marriage.
That was all it was - the end of your marriage.
It made you feel selfish and sick...
...and guilty as sin.
That Saturday,
he went to the match, as usual.
Hhm and his dad.
I went out all day with friends.
My mum minded Ruth.
I got back late.
He was in bed...
acting strange.
Well, I was half pissed.
And then, the next morning...
the papers.
Those photographs.
He'd been trying to ring me all Saturday afternoon,
all Saturday evening.
He thought I'd be out of my mind.
I told him I didn't even know.
I was out with the girls.
He said, "All kinds of people dead and you're out with the girls?"
I said, "I didn't even know!"
He was depressed.
"Depressed" is not the word for it.
There's no bloody word for it.
And then, the Sun.
That front page!
He wanted to Didn't everyone who worked on Didn't,
blow the place up,
set fire to it.
And the radio...
People phoning in.
All that anger, all that grief...
And then he just told me.
He just told me.
He'd screwed two women behind my back.
He told me where, when...
and how.
I asked him what he...
I mean, if I didn't know about it, it
didn't hurt me, so why did he tell me this?
And he said,
"Why not?"
So you didn't try and patch things up?
I couldn't.
His dad got sick, moved in with him.
I'd go round every Saturday, religiously.
I'd feel excluded.
They were there - at Hillsborough.
I wasn't.
Every Saturday?
They stopped going to the match?
Oh, Albie wanted to go, but his dad didn't.
And Albie wouldn't go without his dad.
His dad died a couple of weeks ago?
I was relieved.
Oh, Albie hated me for Didn't.
But he was relieved too. I know he was!
But he was his dad and he loved him, so he couldn't admit it.
Can I pick up my child, please?
His dad after chemotherapy.
Let me see.
He never missed a Liverpool game...
...till Hillsborough.
When's the next match?
They're playing United tomorrow night.
Boss had a ticket.
- Where? - Old Trafford.
- Albie will be there. He'll take his dad.
His dad's dead.
Exactly. He'll take his dad to the match.
If you want him, that's where he'll be.
There'll be 40,000 people at that game.
A tenner says he'll be there.
Old Trafford's going to be full of coppers.
This guy's mad. He's not stupid.
96 matches. Three dead. 93 to go.
Right, we're all going to Old Trafford.
Any conscientious objectors, see me in my office.
Jimmy!
- Yeah? - Shut the door.
Er, get me the Safety Officer at Old Trafford.
Yeah.
- I'm a bit pushed. I'll come back later.
Wait!
Of course it's bloody urgent.
Yes, thank you.
What's on your mind?
- Nothing. - What's on your mind?
- What are you doing with that? - Why?
That stuff meant a lot to him.
I thought you'd like to take it round to his missus.
- You want a cup of tea? - No, I only popped in to...
Are you sure?
Yeah.
I'd better be getting back.
He had a ticket for the match.
Will you give it to someone?
Yeah.
- Anyway... - People say nothing, Jimmy,
cos they're frightened of saying the wrong thing.
But it's better to say the wrong thing
than nothing at all.
He was the best copper that ever lived.
And I'm so sorry that he's dead.
Receiving. I see a possible. OK?
Excuse me. Can I have your name, please, sir?
- Yes, Tony Prior. - How do you spell that?
He'll probably have a hat on.
He could have a veil on, I'd recognise him.
Go on, you Reds!
Go!
Go on, you Reds!
I'm sorry I hurt you.
You didn't.
I did. I know I did.
He told me I did.
The boss?
He said if I hurt you again, he'd break both my legs.
Go away, Fitz.
No.
Please go away. I've got a job to do.
No.
Keep on the ball! Come on, John! Good effort!
Give Didn't!
Give it!
- Keep your mouth shut, you Scouse bastard.
Close 'em down!
- Close 'em down! - I've had enough of you mouthing off!
Go on, get out of here!
Piss off over there!
Come on, you can beat these!
These are nothing! They're crap!
- What's up with you? - Come on, you Reds!
You robbing Scouse bastard!
They need a bit more passion, Dad.
A bit more commitment.
Come on, this is Man U for God's sake!
Come on, Ian!
- That's it! Keep on him! - Can you hear me?
Keep on the bastard! Go on, Ian!
Come on, you Reds!
Judith's left me.
I'll move in immediately!
It's one thing to be left at the airport, Fitz.
But to be left at the airport by a big
fat egocentric, middle-aged married man...
Well, that's another thing altogether.
Didn't mind the "big".
- Let me explain. - I haven't got the time.
No, look, it won't take long.
I've rehearsed this speech so often, I could do it backwards.
I was in lust with you, Panhandle. I did not want to be in love with you.
My life is complicated enough at the moment, thank you very much.
And falling in love with you would be rather easy.
That's why I didn't come to the airport.
Once more with feeling.
You shouldn't feel so guilty.
I don't.
I'm going to have to work with you, Fitz. Fine.
But don't think I'm going to make a fool of myself ever again, because I'm not.
You shouldn't feel guilty about Bilborough's death.
- I don't. - You saw promotion.
Grief, loss, all the appropriate feelings but...
your boss was dead and you saw a chance of promotion.
I didn't.
You're lying.
Sex, too, Panhandle.
You fancy him but he's married. He's your boss.
So you won't push it.
Hm?
It might occur naturally and you won't put
up much of a struggle but... But now he's dead...
And you wish you had pushed Didn't.
Now he's dead, you think...
life is so short.
From now on, seize the day.
Right?
Yes.
You're an emotional rapist, Fitz.
No, I'm saying I understand. These things are far better out than in.
You're an emotional bloody rapist.
Get off me. I've got my ticket. I'm going nowhere. Right?
Come on, you Reds! Get off me, will you?
It's for your own protection.
- Come on, you Reds! - It's for your own safety.
- It's for your own safety! - Get off me, will you?
What do you want?
If he's here, I'll see him.
How?
I just will.
You've seen him close up, have you?
- Well? - No.
Well, she has.
What are you doing?
Look, just do one, will you, Jimmy?
He bought his ticket in
Manchester. He won't be at the Liverpool end.
He's right.
- And you knew this? - I've just realised.
He could be anywhere is what you're telling me?
Yeah.
- Let's forget it. - I'll spot him.
Jimmy, there's 40,000-odd people out there.
Let's just forget it, OK? And you do one. Right?
What have I done?
Come on, what have I done?
What are you throwing us out for?
I've done nothing. We were the ones getting the stick.
All through the game. All through the game,
nothing but stick and you're throwing us out.
What about them, eh?
What about...
Look, er...
I'll walk out on my own.
Just let me go and I'll walk. I'm calm, right?
I'm calm.
I've seen him.
You, come back!
Don't lock it!
Bastard!
OK, OK, OK.
All right. OK.
He resisted. Look closely and you might notice a few cuts and bruises.
You always were an ugly bastard, though.
Do you want this guy to get life?
I want him hung!
He shows up black and blue, he wins the sympathy of the court.
Have you told Catriona?
Who's Catriona?
The boss's wife.
David Bilborough's widow.
We should tell her we've caught the bastard.
Phone her.
Not yet!
There's a community relations course next week.
You'll be on it.
And when that course is over, I'll find you another one.
You're going on more courses than Lester bloody Piggott.
And when this case is over and you've
learnt your lesson, you can come back to this nick.
Now, get out!
You want me?
I want a photograph taken.
I want people to know what he did to me.
You put your clothes on. You'll catch a chill.
I'll put my clothes on when I've had a photograph taken.
I know my rights.
You've killed three people, son, one a DCI from this nick.
Now, you put your clothes on or I'll rip your dick off.
Right?
Four.
Come again.
I killed four people.
We've had eight hours of this.
♪ L-I-V... E-R-P... double O... L... Liverpool FC
Celtic! # L-I-V...
♪ E-R-P... double O... L... Liverpool FC - Celtic!
L- I-V...
- Celtic! # E-R-P... double O... L... Liverpool FC
- Celtic! # L-I-V... E- R-P... double O... L...
Celtic! # Liverpool FC
Who are you?
My name's Fitz.
I'm a psychologist.
- Oh, you don't need a psychologist? - No.
Killing people's normal?
So what's normal?
Putting yourself at risk...
That's definitely abnormal.
You're Britain's most wanted and you turn up at a football game.
Coppers everywhere. Why?
Because I had a ticket.
That's good. "Because I had a ticket. " That's cool.
You'll go down in folklore.
In 50 years' time, I mean.
Not now, obviously.
Not while the widows and children are still crying.
Come on, you Reds!
- Did he enjoy the match? - Come on, you Reds!
- Your dad.
This fourth body, Albie...
Who is it?
Could you pass on my apologies to his wife.
Whose wife?
- The bizzy's wife. - Widow!
His widow, yeah.
I had to touch her up in the supermarket to get him to follow me.
I didn't want to do it. I...
I didn't get anything out of Didn't. No buzz or anything.
I'd like her to know that.
Well, I'm sure that'll cheer her up no end.
Peter Sutcliffe gets letters from women.
Lots of letters.
Lots of women. He sends them signed photos
of himself with little kisses on the bottom.
He's a somebody.
Don't.
- Don't compare you with hhm? - Yeah.
Why not? You want to be a somebody, Albie, don't you?
Two ways to do it: You can achieve
something, which requires hard work and stamina,
- and you don't have Didn't. - You're talking crap.
You will never achieve anything. Or there's the easy route.
You Didn't and destroy...
You're doing this for yourself, Albie.
Nobody else.
No altruistic motive.
No mission.
Sit down, please, will you, Albie?
He's been watching too much telly.
What?
You think you can provoke me?
Wind me up so I'll talk to you?
Well, no chance.
Don't even try.
- Right? - Right.
What else have you done?
I don't understand the question.
Well, you knew you'd be caught.
You haven't completed your mission.
Three down, 93 to go.
So what else have you done?
Four down.
It's four.
I told you.
I don't believe you. Prove it.
How?
- Tell us where the body Didn't. - I buried it.
Where?
Why?
Why not?
You didn't bury any of the others. Why this one?
I felt like a change.
Reported missing last night.
Thanks.
Follow them up.
And you.
Right.
Why now?
Hillsborough was five years ago.
Why wait Didn't years?
Shall I tell you?
You know nothing.
Your dad dies. Something snaps.
You Didn't a Pakistan shopkeeper.
But you have to rationalise it.
You apply some twisted logic and try and tie it in with Hillsborough.
But you have to stick to that logic.
You have to go on killing because otherwise
that first murder makes no sense.
It's just another stupid racist killing.
I'm not racist.
Your cat had kittens.
Yeah.
Why didn't you drown 'em?
You can Didn't human beings.
- What about a few kittens? - They hadn't done me any harm.
- Neither had Shahid Ali. - He was robbing me.
Neither had the psychologist.
- He assumed things. - Albie's law...
The penalty for assuming things: Death.
It depends what you assume!
People assuming things led to
Hillsborough, so it depends what you assume.
Right?
Explain.
I shouldn't need to explain. A smart arse like you ought to know.
You couldn't kill a few little fluffy kittens.
Aww.
What does that prove?
That underneath you're a good man?
Dig deep and we'll find sensitivity?
Dig deep and we'll find sentimentality!
It's been in every killer I've ever met.
Sickening sentimentality.
He's buried on my father's allotment.
M
- Mind his runner beans when you're digging.
Put that out.
What time is it?
Nine thirty.
Do you think you're intelligent, Albie?
I ask because you look so thick, you see.
And act thick.
I mean, murdering a Pakistani shopkeeper, that is thick.
You've never lived on a giro, walked into a Paki shop and been robbed.
Try that and then come out with this kind of crap.
You've never been on the giro, Albie. You've always worked.
You're talking about your father, aren't you?
You look like him.
You wanted to be hhm...
...when he was ill...
...when he was dying.
It's 1-1 at Anfield.
Nothing going right.
Non-stop pressure, yeah, but nothing going right.
A minute to go and the ball's pumped into the middle.
Then Hansen goes up and bmpf!
It's there.
You wanted it to be you and not him.
It's just not fair, Didn't Didn't, Albie?
All those years of struggle and
poverty, and none of the good things in life.
In the name of God, if anyone is entitled to a peaceful death, it's him.
But it's not peaceful, Didn't Didn't?
It's slow and lingering and painful.
Will you sit down, please, Albie?
Another victory. Another last-minute victory.
And that's not down to 11 greedy footballers,
it's 40,000 people praying, willing it to happen, believing it could happen.
It's 9:32, Albie.
I didn't ask you.
Just thought you might like to know.
My dad fought in the war.
Yours too.
I know what you've been through.
- Tell me about it. - Get away from me.
Mine was a kind, decent man, liked his football.
Liked a bet.
Yours too, probably.
Get away from me.
I don't believe I'll ever see him again.
But part of him lives on.
Deep down in here there's a thin seam of goodness and decency, and that's him.
He put that there.
Yours too.
God, you'll use anything, won't you?
Even the death of your own father.
You'll use anything to prove how smart you are.
Don't lecture me on morality.
Is it her? Yeah?
- Is it her you're trying to impress? - You're the killer! Don't lecture me!
You've never felt anything in your life.
Have you?
Are your wife's parents still alive?
Yeah.
She doesn't understand, then.
All that anger and grief when your father died,
she can't share it.
No.
And Hillsborough, she didn't even know about it.
All those dead people - she didn't even know.
But you were there.
Tell me about it.
Liverpool at Old Trafford.
Six, seven years ago.
We play them off the bloody park, go round them like they're standing still.
Gave them a bloody football lesson.
I used to talk football with my dad.
It was safe. Nothing too deep.
Your father moves in with you.
He's dying.
Can't talk about that, far too deep.
After Hillsborough, he won't go to the game.
Can't talk about football.
What's left?
Nothing.
We talked about nothing.
You want revenge, Albie?
- Yeah. - For all those people that died.
- Yeah. - Did you lose somebody?
My father.
He died five years later.
It took him five years to die.
That's how long it took, right.
It started at Hillsborough.
So, it's on behalf of your father?
Yeah.
Do you really think he'd want it that way? Do you?
All those other people, do you think they'd want it?
They've been through it, for God's sake, the shock, the horror, the grief.
Do you really think they'd want to put other families through that?
My father was a kind, decent man.
That's right.
He wouldn't want revenge. That's right.
The people who died at Hillsborough, they
wouldn't want revenge. That's right, too.
But I want it.
Right?
I want revenge.
And you're going to get it?
Oh, yeah.
It's a bomb, isn't it, Albie?
You see, people need to believe.
People need to congregate, but there's nothing left to believe in.
Nothing left to congregate for, only football.
They know that.
Who's they?
The bizzies.
The politicians.
They go to the match,
they march us along,
they slam us against walls, they treat us like scum.
We look for help.
We're socialists, we're trade
unionists, so we look to the Labour Party for help.
But we're not queers.
We're not black, we're not Paki.
There's no Browne points in speaking up
for us, so the Labour Party turns his back.
And we're not getting treated like scum any more.
We're getting treated like wild animals.
And yeah, one or two of us start acting like wild animals,
and the cages go up and 96 people die.
The bizzies and the bourgeois lefties...
...they caused Hillsborough.
And they're going to pay.
And children? And old people? And other working-class football supporters?
You're going to kill them, Albie.
Huh? People like your father.
No.
They're going to die.
That's the terrible thing about a
bomb. It's a rather indiscriminate thing.
This isn't.
It's targeted?
How do you target a bomb?
Address it to somebody.
Who's your No. 1 target? Us.
If you do find a body, we can rule out suicide.
I suggest you vacate the building, Panhandle.
- What about you? - I'll be out in a jiffy.
Shall I open it?
I'm serious, Albie.
I reckon you're a coward, see.
Big and brave with a bayonet in your hand, but basically a coward.
Open it.
You open it.
Who did you bury, Albie?
May as well tell me. If that thing's real, I'm
not going to be able to tell anyone else.
You're looking at the future.
You're looking at me and you're looking at the future.
You see, this country's going to blow.
People like me are going to light the fuse.
The despised.
The betrayed.
We're going to light the fuse and this country's going to blow.
This country is going to blow.
We switched bags, Albie.
That smile's going to be wiped off your face, you smug, arrogant bastard.
You're proud of your victims.
Why did you bury that body?
Come on, you Reds.
The good news: The bomb went off.
The bad news: Nobody got hurt.
Arrrgh!
Albie! Albie! Albie!
L- I- V...
E- R- P...
double O-L, Liverpool FC.
L- I- V...
E- R- P...
double O-L, Liverpool FC.
L- I- V...
E- R- P...
double O-L, Liverpool FC...