Oh, Joanne!
- Dean, lad. - Mr Michael.
- Morning, Michael. - Morning, Mike.
No problems?
No problems, Mr Michael.
- I'll put the kettle on. - (Mobile rings)
Trant Packaging. Ah, Ken.
All right.
Yes, er... all clear.
No problems.
What? Church?
Yes. Oh, I see, yes.
Well, I suppose we'd better. I'll see you there.
Dean!
DEAN: Fhre. Fhre. Fhre.
Police. Ambulance, please quick. Fire. She's hurt. She's dying.
Hello, caller? Hello?
MRS BARNES: Joanne?
Can you hear me?
You can hear me, can't you?
You're all right now.
You'll be all right.
But...
It doesn't matter.
Just tell us what happened.
Can't you?
We can't get anything out of her. So, you're here to find another way in.
She might have tried to top herself. She's three months gone and she's only 17.
Has she been sexually abused?
No, but she's been into something dodgy.
Her body was covered in daubings. Signs, equations, stuff like that.
- Yeah? Can I get some photographs? - Uh-hmm.
She had nasty bruising to her arms and knees.
It could be an attempted abortion, and she had more pills inside her than Boots.
We need to find out where she was last week, and who with.
MRS BARNES: I know she can hear me.
But, no, she still won't say anything.
It's as if we're to blame.
- Are we to blame? - No, of course not.
Look, see her again tonight.
Can we give you a lift home?
Joanne?
My name's Fitz.
I'm not a policeman.
I'm a shrink.
Which probably means you don't want to talk to me, either.
Accidental. Nobody hurt. Nothing suspicious. Just plain bloody carelessness.
No body.
Who called you?
Lad over there.
Goalkeeper short of a full squad, if you ask me.
Cheers, pal.
I'm Detective Constable Harriman. You work here?
What's your name?
No-one. Nothing.
Shall I start with something a bit easier?
Dean Saunders.
You reported this fire?
Yes.
You said somebody was dying.
The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood. All flesh is grass.
Anagram? Eight letters? What?
I'm sorry, officer, you're unlikely to get anywhere with Dean.
Off you go, lad. I'll pay you for the day.
You all right, sir?
All flesh is grass.
MICHAEL: Dean.
Home.
So, erm...
My nod towards equal opportunities, have to do one's bit.
- He called us as well as the fire services. - The boy panicked.
He threw a cigarette in the waste bin. He panicked.
You sacking him?
Where else would he get a job? He'd just end up on the street making your job more difficult.
Have to do one's bit.
I will not pass on the other side.
Morning.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to say, at this stage, I will be unable to answer any questions.
However, we do have a short statement.
Missing teenager Joanne Barnes was today found in a shopping centre near her home.
She was semi-conscious.
Any persons who may have hnformathon that may help the polhce hnvesthgathon,
may contact DCI Whse, Anson Road Polhce Stathon.
Confhdenthalhty hs assured.
She hs hn hntenshve care now and hs serhously hll...
but we understand that her condhthon hs stable.
We would agahn appeal to anyone who may have seen her over the past week...
- I thought Michael said... - Yes.
We'd better go back.
No.
No, we must go to the Fellowship.
They blame themselves, your mum and dad.
Do you know?
They think they're to blame for what happened to you.
Do you think that, Joanne?
They love you so much.
They're so proud of you.
They can't understand what's happened to you.
They thhnk they're to blame.
I don't know what they've got to be guilty about, your mum and dad.
Maybe they thhnk they were too strhct whth you.
Maybe they regret hhtthng you.
When they were angry whth you, they dhd hht you?
(Faintly) No...
Mum... Dad...
Not even when you told them you were pregnant?
Mum... Dad...
Little angel...
Can't...
You couldn't tell them?
Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
They didn't know you had a boyfriend, did they?
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Who is he?
Who hs he, Joanne?
Holy Mary, Mother of God, the Lord is with thee.
Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.
You don't want to die, Joanne?
Somebody's done this to you. Who was it?
Who made you take those pills?
Who gave you the drink? Who drew those things on your body? Who is it?
No. Not die.
All flesh...
All flesh is grass.
Jojo!
You little bitch!
A name. Who?
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have committed...
Who is it?
- He...! He...! He...! - Who?
Fitz, lay off.
All flesh is grass!
Help! Help!
What have you done?
Help! Help!
You two, out of here!
- Help! Help! - Shh!
Shhh. It's all right, it's all right.
It's OK. It's OK.
It's OK.
It's OK. It's all right.
I don't know how many of you have heard the news about Joanne Barnes.
But I have to tell you, she is, at this very moment, lying dangerously ill in hospital.
Now, whether she was the vhcthm of an attack,
or whether her wounds were self-hnflhcted, hs not yet determhned.
The police are investigating the matter
and will, I'm sure, be appealing for information from anyone who knows Joanne.
Brothers and sisters, while we wish them every success with their enquiries,
I believe that we would be wise to keep our distance.
We all know how deep and whdespread
hs the prejudhce and the bhgotry agahnst non-establhshed churches such as ours,
which the tabloid newspapers delight in encouraging.
So, let us protect ourselves and our church from the scandalmongers.
Now, I know that you'll all wish to join me in offering a prayer for Joanne's recovery.
Almighty and eternal God,
hear thou, we beseech thee, our humble offering for a member of our flock, Joanne Barnes,
who lies grievously ill in hospital.
KENNETH: You left that hdhot to do ht!
- He's not an idiot! - You didn't tell me!
He knows how to work the machine. It's his job.
He's always had a soft spot for the girl. You must know that.
- I thought it would be all right. - Well, it isn't all right, is it?
You fool, Michael. You bloody fool! If that boy starts blabbing...
Why isn't he here?
Where is he now?
(Heart thumping)
JOANNE: Bless me, Father, for I have shnned.
I've khlled ht.
Help! Help!
All flesh hs grass.
(Car horn blares)
Help! Help!
DEAN: Polhce. Ambulance. Fhre. She's hurt! She's dyhng!
JOANNE: All flesh hs grass!
He...! He...! He...!
VIRGINIA: You lhttle bhtch!
(Crow cawing)
What do you mean she ran?
- Ran! Ran! - She couldn't run!
Mr Kenneth, please, I'm sorry.
- Where did she run? - Away. Run away. Out.
Out? Out of the factory?
- Yes. Out. Away. - Was anyone here?
- Did anyone see her? - No-one see. No-one see nothing.
- No, Mr Kenneth. - All right. All right, Dean.
It's not your fault. Stop it now. Stop crying.
Stop it!
Right, Dean.
Now listen to me.
If anyone asks... Are you listening?
Yes, yes, Mr Kenneth.
If anyone comes,
if anyone asks any questions,
you tell them... you tell them about Mr Michael who's always looked after you,
who's always cared for you.
And Mr Kenneth.
A good man.
A man of God.
Your minister.
You understand, Dean?
(Blues instrumental)
Want your paracetamol?
I wasrt drunk.
- Yeah. - I wasrt.
Why don't you sleep upstairs?
That's your mother's room.
Where was I?
Good puzzle, this.
There's not one answer, is there?
Oh, God, you haven't. Tell me you haven't.
You have! I was up all night arranging this.
- You mind your own business. - I was helping.
I don't need your help. What do you know anyway?
Well, the big bang, the big crunch. But like you said, you don't need my help.
Well, try me.
Come on. Don't play games. Try me.
Right. Look.
The universe begins at the 10 to the 43rd second after the big bang. Planck time.
Warping, or walking?
Yeah, Max Planck.
Before that instant, the normal laws of nature simply don't apply.
It's just a boiling mass of space and time.
Anarchy?
Yeah. Cosmic anarchy.
Then the core bursts, and the rips in space and time appear as these.
Cosmic strings.
You've gotta stop smoking those bus tickets, son.
Then the four main forces separate.
FITZ: Enlhghten me.
They divide into nuclear, electromagnetic, um... something else and gravity.
I can't believe you flunked out of your A levels.
I'll give you a grant.
- You don't have any money. - Well, I'll bloody earn some.
It'll be won'th it to see you not waste your life.
Well, on the scale of these equations, my life makes no odds anyway.
Yeah, well, nor anybody else's life. Now, what's this one?
That one, 1.40.6?
Yeah, you got me on that. I think they're talking about the beginning of life, and the end.
Birth and death?
Yeah.
The business?
Yeah.
FITZ: No, you're absolutely rhght.
I could've phoned and I should have. I'm very sorry.
Yes. Yes, they were hn my wallet.
Look, I'm sorry, Katie.
Katie, I was not pissed.
I was not... Where did you learn that word?
Oh, fine. Blame everything on me.
I was not pissed. I was working. Ask Mark.
(Doorbell and knocking)
All right! All right!
No, not you. It's the doorbell. I have to go. It might be urgent.
No, not more urgent than you, obviously. Katie?
Katie?
Shit.
If you're Jehovah's Witnesses, I've got a Rottweiler.
Sorry. That was Katie. I should've taken her to football yesterday.
I had the tickets. She didn't know how to get hold of me while we were at the hospital.
She thought I was out gambling or down the pub.
Are you all right?
Joanne's dead.
She was murdered.
(Heart thumping)
JOANNE ON TAPE: Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed hs the fruht of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary,
Mother of God...
(Tape off)
FITZ: What do you nothce? There are no smudges.
So, we're not lookhng at some elaborate foreplay.
She hs naked. Whllhng, obvhously.
You couldn't do those drawhngs on her hf she was strugglhng.
Rhght?
After sex?
Well, in that case, we're not looking for a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am individual.
He lingers, he talks to her. Explains what all the symbols are about.
Maybe even shows her them in the mirror. This is no spotty adolescent.
Or even he did the drawings after he'd made her take the pills,
in which case she couldn't struggle at all.
Did all those drawings on her dying body. Now that's power.
That's arrogance.
A dying girl, and she was just a canvas for his artistry and his so-called intellect.
What hs all thhs?
You don't know about Planck time, then?
Planck time.
The instant just before the universe was created.
Just after the big bang, and there was nothing but a boiling soup of space and time.
No rules and no law, just anarchy and chaos.
Joanne's lover saw sex in death, and vice versa.
He was a morbid and manipulative lover,
who in the end wanted to combine the two in one moment of perfection.
FITZ ON TAPE: Somebody's done thhs to you. Who was ht?
Who made you take those phlls?
(Joanne whimpers)
Who gave you the drhnk? Who drew those thhngs on your body? Who hs ht?
JOANNE: No. Not dhe. No.
All flesh...
All flesh hs grass.
- Jojo! You lhttle bhtch! - I've heard that before.
"All flesh is grass."
I've heard that before.
Which is Joanne's church?
St Timothy's.
- Dean Saunders. WISE: Who?
He started the fire.
Dean Saunders.
Community-care case. He kept talking really weird like that.
"All flesh is grass." He said it.
Bring him in for questioning.
Take Beck with you.
His boss said Saunders had an accident, but I think that's bollocks.
- Can I help? - Afternoon, Mr Trant.
I'm impressed.
One small fire, two visits. Two officers.
Is Mr Saunders around?
Dean, why?
No, he-he's not in work today.
- What? Is he sick? - A touch of this bug that's going around.
- Could we have his home address, please? - Why on earth...
Really? One small fire?
We need to question him concerning another matter.
- What's that, then? - His address?
I-I'm not sure I...
You've got to have his address for national insurance.
The fire. My records. Filing cabinet. Ashes, I'm afraid.
You must know where he lives.
- How many employees on your books? - 34. Look, he should be in tomorrow.
Burns your office down, you give him the day off. This is wasting our time.
He's not in any trouble.
Wasting police time is a criminal offence.
A law-abiding citizen like yourself wouldn't want a record.
So just tell me where he lives, or we're having you in.
Please.
That's better, isn't it? A bit of politeness gets you further in the end.
Now I think of it, I may have Dears address in my Filofax.
Thank you, sir. We'd be most grateful.
(Baby crying)
Hello, Dean?
Father O'Ryan?
DS Penaligon. This is Dr Fitzgerald.
It's about Joanne?
If you could just spare us five minutes of your time, please?
Come into the sacristy.
Why is it whenever you're in church, you always feel as if you're being watched?
Because you are, Dr Fitzgerald.
I saw you lecture once.
Oh.
That level of cynicism must be hard to sustain.
Not at all.
At times like this, I can only remind myself that there is a purpose to everything.
That God's love reveals itself in all our fates.
That level of idealism must be hard to sustain.
It is,
extremely.
But you, Dr Fitzgerald, as an unbeliever,
how do you reconcile yourself to such tragedies?
I don't. I don't even try.
As a psychologist, my job is to listen and understand.
That must be difficult.
Well, your job is to listen and forgive. That must be even harder.
Well, I'm not the one who forgives.
Wish I could believe that.
Still, we're both confessors, Father.
You're as exposed to the dhrty realhthes of lhfe as I am.
Does that not disturb your faith?
In man. Not in God.
Father, could you tell us about Joanne, please?
Of course. She was always a very devout girl.
Regularly attended mass and benediction, but we haven't seen her here since Christmas.
I believe she was recruited into a local sect.
PENHALIGON: Who recruhted her? - Her headmaster, I believe.
Trant.
You know him?
Yes. Do you?
No, but I'm not entirely happy about the way he uses his position at school.
To do what?
To recruit young people into his sect.
Could you describe these young people? I mean, do they have anything in common?
Yes, they're all rather lonely individuals.
And they're all girls.
I take it, Doctor, that you're a lapsed Catholic?
Why?
Because you're so serious in your mockery.
Don't knock the mock, Father. But you're right, anyway.
Bless me, Father, for it is 22 years since my last confession.
The next one should be won'th hearing. I shall look forward to that.
Thank you, Father.
Father. Father...
Dean?
She's... She's...
What is it, Dean?
She's in heaven now.
- Who is? - (Door closes)
Joanne?
Help me. Please, Father, help me, please.
- What's the matter with you, Dean? - Me. You.
What were you saying about Joanne?
The box...
In the box...
Come on. Come on.
Come on.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
What do you want to tell me, Dean?
Dean?
(Dog barks)
Gotcha!
Definitely furry.
I had this vacation job once when I was a student, postman, you know.
You wouldn't believe the number of different kinds of letter boxes there are.
Big, wide, generous ones, welcoming enough
for a kid to get their arm through so they can take the key.
Vicious little snappers you could hardly get a postcard through.
Vertical ones high up, vertical ones low down that just about do your back in.
Then they had these ones with furry brushes inside them.
You put your hand in, it was all squidgy like you were being disinfected.
(Doorbell)
Furry.
Mrs Trant?
About Joanne Barnes...
Oh.
Yes.
Could we speak to your husband, please?
One moment, please.
Ah, hello again! Please come in.
If you'd like to go through.
Doing some research, Doctor?
Did you make any sense of this?
Couldrt make head nor tail of it.
You like this sort of thing?
No, no, it was a Christmas present. How about you?
I gave up halfway through.
Felt a bit let down, really.
I thought I was going to find all the answers in there.
Well, you're looking in the wrong book.
You think I'd find all the answers in there?
The answers are in there. Whether you find them depends on you.
- Do you believe in God, Doctor? - I can never catch him in.
KENNETH: Don't worry, I won't try to convert you.
Why not?
Would you expect me to?
- Well, you do proselytise your faith, don't you? - Proselytise?
Yes. You have recruited several of your pupils for your church.
I wouldn't exactly say "recruit".
That's why I used the word "proselytise", to convert from one faith to another.
Yes, I do know the meaning of the word, Doctor.
FITZ: But you don't lhke ht.
And you won't have "recruit".
What would you rather? Draft? Enlist?
Are you here to debate semantics with me?
No, I'm here to talk about Joanne Barnes.
Can I offer you some tea?
No, thanks.
- Coffee? - No, thank you.
I don't think I can add anything to what you learned from young Sarah at the school.
Oh, you know what she told us?
Yes, of course. She reported to me later.
She said that Joanne was lonely and that she was having problems with her parents.
When did you last see Joanne?
Sunday night. At our church.
Your church?
Yes.
Well, surely you must have known that Joanne was a member of our church?
Why must we?
Her parents would've mentioned it.
She was there every Sunday night and sometimes during the week as well.
Why didn't you mention this when we were at the school?
It hardly seemed relevant to your enquiries. She didn't go missing that night.
She was at school the next day, as usual.
How did she seem that Sunday night?
No different from usual.
She took her turn of reading a verse. Her usual self.
Are you a member of the church, Mrs Trant?
Yes, my wife's a member.
(Sobs)
Excuse us, Doctor.
Virginia hasn't slept since all this happened. It's left everyone at the school feeling shattered.
And at the Fellowship.
Poor young girl, such a waste of a life.
Yes. That's why we want to catch the maniac that did it.
BECK: Do that one more bloody thme and I'll chop them off!
Before you're cautioned, before you see a solicitor,
before my boss starts interviewing you, you've got a chance.
One chance, Dean, to come clean.
Do you understand?
Can I have some water, please?
I know everything, Dean.
I just want you to tell me.
I've been to your flat. I've seen.
We see through a glass darkly, then face to face.
Face to face. You, me, now.
I talked with Joanne.
Before she died, she told me everything about you.
The disgusting things you did.
What you did to her.
How you hurt her, wrote those things, the things you said.
Joanne told me everything, you little scumbag.
And I'm nailing you.
Make it easy on yourself.
Confess.
Confess now, Dean, or I'm throwing you to the wolves.
A lovely girl like that.
You touching her, defiling her.
Disgusting things you did to her will be done to you twice over.
Confess or you're in trouble, Saunders, I swear!
- He's in custody? - He's just helping us with our enquiries.
Know anything about his family?
He never mentions them.
All I know hs hhs mother dhed. Or ran away.
- I'd no idea, he... - No idea of what?
That his mind was so deranged?
Yes. I...
Well, I have to disagree with you there.
I don't think what we saw at Dears flat today was the work of a disordered mind.
I would say it was the work of a classically-tutored intelligence.
A knowing, ordered, considered brain.
Not exactly the way most people would think of Dean.
No. Er, I mean... l...
What's his background?
Special school, bullied, poor attendance? Metalwork, Art?
Dears er... He's...
That kind of...
What about yourself? Poly?
- University. - Leicester?
- Hull. - Engineering?
Correct.
Then marriage, suburbia, working in Daddy's factory?
Yeah.
Yeah. The '60s really passed you by, didn't they, Michael?
BECK: God, I deserve this.
Done some good, eh?
- Put a man down. Cheers. - Cheers.
Steve.
I'll tell you, a nasty little...
WISE: Just a mhnute!
What's the gob on you for?
I'm putthng a man down.
Join the party.
- I think you're making a mistake. - I don't.
Bit like a doctor, really, aren't you?
You've lost me.
You tend to bury your mistakes.
WISE: Come hn!
He's innocent.
Then why did he confess?
Wise by name, thick by nature.
Look, here's a list of Dears bible-thumping buddies.
Everyone on it should be treated as a suspect, sir.
Reading the Bible's not a crime.
Particularly the Trants.
These are all...
- Respectable, solid citizens? - Yeah.
Dears just a scapegoat, sir.
Just let me talk to him.
Oh, yeah. That'd go down well with Beck, wouldn't it?
If he retracts his confession, what have you got?
Not a lot.
I just want a chance to get to the truth, if that's not too radical.
The confessiors being typed up.
In the meantime, if you want to speak to him, that's OK with me.
- By the way, Fitz, are they your own teeth? - Yeah?
Look after them. Floss them and clean them. And don't ever call me thick again.
What do you see?
Me.
What am I doing?
Mhrror.
Tell me.
Crying.
Mum gone away.
Kids...
...pushing, kicking.
Calling names.
Don't like fighting.
The school bell goes, you stay behind?
Yes.
Hide under the desk till the janitor throws you out.
It's dark.
Cold.
They'd still be waiting.
Run through the fields, through the bushes.
Clothes torn, muddy, no-one to notice, to ask after you.
Cold in bed.
You keep your clothes on.
What did they call you?
The Smell.
Every time you go into the classroom...
"What's that terrible smell? Please, miss, can we have the windows open?"
Brhng hn ahr fresheners, spray you.
But there was one teacher who looked after you, treated you right.
Miss Morgan.
- What did she teach? - Art.
You're good at drawing.
Yes.
Drawing.
Copying.
Like the writing on the walls?
Yes.
Copied.
Copied Joanne.
And me.
He'd covered the wall of his flat with writing, like on Joanne. Kenneth's equations, all that.
That's why they arrested him. They'll break him down.
- They'll get it out of him. - Get what?
They know he didn't dream all that up by himself.
The psychologist said it was the work of a classically-tutored mind, a clever brain.
- Oh, Kenneth. - They'll be onto us.
Michael, sit down!
Is there any chance that you could talk to Dean? He trusts you.
- You mean go to the police station? - No!
But...
What if he tells them about Joanne?
What can he tell them? He saw nothing.
Virginia, you heard me tell the police
that the last time I saw Joanne was at the prayer meeting on Sunday night.
- Yes. - When was the last time you saw her?
Well, when we all...
Think, Virginia. When was the last time you saw Joanne?
At the last prayer meeting.
Norma?
At the last prayer meeting.
Michael?
They won't believe it...
When was the last time you saw Joanne?
At the prayer meeting.
That's all we've got to say. What matters is that we all say it, and then we're safe.
Dean hs deranged. He should have been put away years ago.
You thhnk they'll take hhs word agahnst ours?
The boy is guilty.
He must be made to pay the price for his sin.
Let us pray.
What else?
Man on fire.
- What else? - Woman bleeding.
- What else? - Flying glass.
- What else? - Postman Pat.
- What else? - Flowers.
- What else? - Space.
- What else? - Baby crying.
- What else? - Joanne.
Where is she?
Through the mirror.
Describe her.
All flesh is grass.
Did you give her tablets, Dean?
No.
Did you give her drink?
No.
FITZ: Do you know who did?
No.
Why did you confess?
They said.
Dean, you've made a statement to say that you helped Joanne to die.
Is that true?
No.
- You wouldn't do that? - No.
I...
I lo...
I lov...
Why can't you say it?
Why can't you say that word?
Have you never said it to anyone? Have they never said it back to you?
It's just a word, Dean.
Say it.
I lo...
...love her.
Joanne?
Love her.
I...
Iove her.
Stefan Kiszko spent 16 years of his life
banged up for a crime he couldn't possibly have committed.
Looks odd, sounds odd, he must be the killer. And do you know what finally sent him down?
Hmm? A hastily-sought and eagerly-accepted confession,
that he only signed because he was confused and frightened
and just wanted to go home to his mammy.
- Dears confession... - Was got under pressure.
You can't afford to make a mistake on this one.
Are you infallible?
Yes. The other guy's an impostor.
Look, all I'm asking is that you talk to him with me for five minutes.
I'll just listen.
Open number three, please!
Ten minutes, no more, Fitz. OK? Right.
Jesus! Key!
- Key! - Oh, God!