(Man 1) Do you want it, fella, huh? (Youth) Yeah.
(Man 1) Cos you wanted this yesterday, brother.
You want to do this shit?
(Youth) Let's go. (Man 1) All right then. Yo, yo, T.
Get the pipe out, blood.
(Man 2) Are you ready to become a man, blood?
You ready, yeah? You know what this shit is, yeah?
- Yeah, man. - Stone and a glass for you, bruv.
Here, bruv, take it. Marky, light him up, man.
(Marky) Get that shit up, bruv. (Man 1) There it is, swallow that.
(Man 2) Hold him, hold him, in case he drops down, bruv.
(Marky) Take it down, boy. Take it down.
(Marky laughs) Don't be sick.
(Man 2) Give me that. Don't make me lose money, bruv.
Hold it, hold it. Hold that shit. I said hold that shit!
(Man 2) Look at his eyes, bruv. Look at his eyes.
(Man 1) All right, bruv, let it go. Let it go. Yeah!
(Marky) We ain't done yet.
(Man 1) Talk about phase 2, our cold boy runs round here.
Yo, yo, yo where's the phone at? You see this?
See this shit. This is real shit. Give him some gloves.
(Man 2) This is how we roll? (Marky) Take these gloves.
(Man 1) Listen, when you put your hands on this gun,
you're a member for life, you understand?
(Marky) For life. (Man 1) Take the ting, man.
(Man 2) You're done now, hey?
(All celebrate)
(Youth shouts) Aaah!
Fuck!
Fucking pray you, fucker!
Yeah.
(Youth 1) Fucking bird.
Fuck you right up.
(Youth 2) You wanna bang? Let's do her, yeah.
(Both laugh)
Yeah.
(Woman) No!
(Youth cackles)
(Gunshot)
(Youth 2 laughing) This is fucking brilliant!
(Woman) Get away!
(Screams)
(Youth 2) Fucking hell. Let's go! Fucking... I fucking shot her, man!
(Tyres screeching)
(Man on radio) Exactly what she looks for in a man.
Tall, dark and mysterious or just plain loaded?
(Woman) I'm not telling you. You're a cheeky sod.
(Man) Thank you very much. Here's the news.
(News signature tune)
Good morning, this is Clare Miller with your early morning news update.
Former MP Alan Peters will begin his 3-year sentence for fraud, today.
Peters was convicted back in September
and will serve at least 18 months in Ford Open Prison.
Labour spokesman, Lindsay Rhodes,
said the party had nothing more to say
of what was a sordid and sorry case.
Single mother, Karen Dobbs,
was shot yesterday in front of her 2-year-old son.
A police spokesman says Miss Dobbs
was a victim of a random and senseless act of violence.
The toddler will be placed in the care of a local authority.
Traffic now, the M25 is closed eastbound at junction 19
due to an overturned heavy-goods vehicle.
Traffic police are advising all drivers to avoid the area.
That's it for now,
I'll be back in half an hour with a further traffic update.
(News signature tune)
(Man) Thank you very much. That was Claire Miller with the news.
Lisa, where were we, brain or brawn? What are you looking for in a man?
(Lisa) Oh, I'd have to say brain every time, Johnny.
(Johnny) Damn.
(Harry grunts)
(Inhales)
(Exhales)
(Screaming)
(Shouting)
(Door closing)
(Traffic)
(Loud music from underpass)
Morning, Sister.
How is she today?
She's had a difficult night.
Oh.
Hello...
Kath, my love.
Same again, Harry?
Yeah, cheers.
Make it 2, Sid.
One for my father, here.
Thanks, Harry.
Everything all right, Len?
Fine.
How's your Kath?
I don't think she knows I'm there, any more.
She knows.
(Door opens and closes)
All right, Ken? Got a 20 bag, yeah?
Yeah.
(Kenny snorts)
Nice one.
- Did you see that? - What?
They don't even try to hide it now.
I found a needle in the toilets last week.
You think Sid would say something.
What's he gonna do, eh, call the police?
Bollocks.
Besides, Kenny What's-his-name slipped him a bung.
- Sid? No. - Yeah, I've seen them at it.
That Sid is not who you think he is, and the other one,
he's into selling drugs, guns, under-age girls, the lot.
Christ, Len, why don't you say that a bit louder?
(Game show on television)
(Man) You've got Cooking or Geography?
(Woman) Cooking, Dave.
(Dave) Cooking it is. This should be a piece of cake.
Fingers on buzzers, here's the first course. Start the clock.
Chanterelle...
(Banging)
- (Car alarm) - (Man shouting)
(Youths shouting)
(Man) Stay there, in the house.
(Shouting)
(Shouting and arguing)
(Glass smashing)
(Woman screams) Oi! Get off him! You animals, get off him!
(Youths shouting)
(Woman) Help! Can somebody help me?
Can you phone the police, please?
(Car alarm continues loudly)
(Woman sobbing)
(Woman) Can you phone the ambulance?!
(Begging) Please, phone the police.
(Phone ringing)
Hello?
(Loud talking from the underpass)
(Pants)
(Sobs)
Bob Creswell.
Big Scottish bloke.
We were in the marines together.
If it hadn't have been for him, I wouldn't have met my Kath.
It was a service dance, and Bob's dancing with this girl...
And...I dunno, I...
I see this...
pretty pair of eyes...
..and I guess we just liked the look of each other, so...
I cut in on Bob,
and Kath and me,
we spent the rest of the night dancing together.
You've never really talked about your time in the marines.
Your Kath told me you had a couple of medals somewhere.
Did you ever kill anyone?
You can't ask me that, Len.
I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything.
It's all right. It's OK.
- I didn't mean to upset you. - OK. Forget it.
The marines were a lifetime ago. I was...I was a different man then.
When I met my Kath I knew that all that stuff had to be locked away.
I made that decision, all those years ago,
and I stuck to it.
Harry...
I'm scared, Harry.
I'm...I'm scared all the time.
They pushed dog shit through my letter box.
One of 'em spat in my face.
They call me, er...
You know the ones.
I'm not gonna take it any more.
God in heaven. What are you doing with that?
- You know what. - Len, no.
- I thought you'd understand. - I do.
You should talk to the police.
I tell you what, we'll go together.
I've already been to the police.
(Door slamming)
(Coughs)
(Gasps)
(Chokes)
(Coughs and sputters)
Bastards!
(Len) You fucking bastards!
- Mr. Harry Brown? - Yes.
Police.
I'm Detective Inspector Frampton. This is Sergeant Hicock.
Is there anyone here with you, Mr. Brown?
No, I'm a widower.
What's this all about?
Do you think we could sit down?
Yeah. Yeah.
I'm sorry to have to tell you,
but last night Mr. Leonard Attwell was involved in a very serious incident.
Len?
Wh-Wh-What happened? Is he all right?
No, I'm afraid not, Mr. Brown.
Mr. Attwell is dead.
Sergeant, could you get Mr. Brown a glass of water, please?
What happened?
He was assaulted. Late last night.
What? Where? Where, at home?
No. He was found in the pedestrian walkway.
(Harry pants)
Thank you.
Did you find out who did it?
I'm afraid the investigation's still in progress.
When did you last see him?
(Harry) Er...
Yesterday afternoon, we...
We played... We played chess in the Barge pub.
(Harry sniffs)
Was he distressed or concerned about anything?
No...Well, you know, just about the kids on the estate.
(Frampton) Did he mention any names?
No. He never...
Just kids.
(Phone ringing)
(Hicock) Hello.
Yeah, great, cheers.
Thanks, mate. Bye.
(Hicock clears throat)
If there's anything you can help us with, Mr. Brown, please get in touch.
Thank you.
Is there anyone we can call to be with you?
Or I can send Social Services, if you want?
No, no, no.
I don't need anybody.
I'll be all right.
OK. (Clears throat)
We'll...We'll see ourselves out.
OK.
(Sobs)
(Loud bass music)
(Hicock) Oh! What a shit hole.
You wouldn't want to live round here if you didn't have to, would ya?
Guv, normally we send uniform to do the death-o-grams.
There's no need to do it yourself.
Ma'am, can I ask you a question,
and you can tell me to mind me own business, but erm...
I heard that you requested to be transferred here.
Cos most of the DI's would give their right arm to be in fraud
or a cushy number like that, do you know what I mean?
Sergeant Hicock,
if you refer to a notice of death as a death-o-gram again
I'll have you reprimanded before the Superintendent.
(Sighing)
(Television plays in background)
(Loud banging on door)
(Man) Police!
(Loud banging on door)
Come on, open the door, we've got a warrant.
Jean, you know how this works, open the door.
Don't make it more difficult than it has to be.
(Jean) What's all this about? (Hicock) Where is he?
You're always fucking picking on him!
(Hicock) Noel?
(Shouts) Noel! Sergeant Hicock. Don't make me come up there!
(Police radio)
Noel!
What's all the fucking noise about?
Who's this, your new bitch?
Noel Winters, I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder...
I don't know what you're talking about!
Are you reading me my rights? Think I don't know my fucking rights?
I know them better than you do, you muggy cunt.
...may be given in evidence.
You get your fucking hands off him! He ain't done nothing.
Mum, give it a rest, will ya?
(Jean whimpers)
Sergeant Hicock, can I please speak to my mum? She's upset.
Ma'am?
(Hicock) Yeah, go on then.
(Jean cries)
Call my uncle and tell him to get my brief down the nick, all right?
Come on then, pussy'oles.
(Noel) Watch my fucking arm, cunt.
(Jean) You leave him alone. This is harassment, this is.
(Woman) About time, you nasty piece of shit.
Yeah, yeah, yap, yap, yap you old slag!
(All shouting abuse)
(Frampton) Noel? You never asked us that one question.
Yeah? What's that, then?
You didn't ask who you were supposed to have killed.
(Police sirens)
Tell me about Mr. Attwell.
Who's that?
You know, Mr. Attwell,
the er, nice old man that you and your mates murdered in the subway.
I don't know what the fuck you're talking about.
So, Carl...
killing a pensioner,
it must have been hard work for ya.
(Scoffs)
(Carl) No comment.
No...comment. It's like a catchphrase, innit?
I know you're scared, Mark,
but I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth.
I ain't scared.
What truth? I don't know nothing.
(Frampton) Dean?
Dean?!
(Hicock) Earth to Dean! Hello, mate.
You spend half your life in that subway
scoring and shooting up, or whatever it is you do down there.
Come on, mate, tell us what happened.
No comment.
That's what your solicitor's told you to say and that's your right,
but if there's something you don't tell us today,
that you later on decide you want to use in court in your defence...
(Shouts) Dean, can you hear me? (Hicock) Dean!
(Dean) No comment.
(Frampton) You do know that the jury will be hearing a list
of all your previous convictions
for violence, aggravated assault, wounding with intent,
possession of a deadly weapon?
It's how it goes, innit?
These days you need protection on the roads.
But tell me something, though...
..when my little brother got himself cut up,
where the fuck were you lot?
Shining your fucking shoes?
Where I'm from, someone comes for you,
you need to be tooled up or they're going to fucking merc you.
So is that what happened, Carl? You were just defending yourself?
Did Mr. Attwell attack you?
(Frampton) Did he? Was he drunk? Was he violent towards you?
Hey, tell her, firm, tell her to shut the fuck up, will you?
Tell us what really happened.
No comment.
(Frampton) Do you realise how serious this is, Noel?
You could be going to prison for the rest of your life.
Still, you might get to see a bit more of your old man.
My dad was the fucking king around that estate,
and you know it.
Really? What's he now, the king of a bunk bed?
Fuck you.
Everybody knows you used to shit yourself around my old man.
The day you arrested him,
got 6 of your mates to put him in the van
while you watched, like the little pussy'ole that you are,
Sergeant Hicock.
Think you got rid of my old man off that estate?
- Yeah. - Well, you haven't.
He's still out there now doing what he's always done. Do you know how?
I am my old man.
So is every other cunt out there with one of these, you feel me?
I got fucking rights, you pig cunts.
If you've got something on me then fucking charge me. If you don't...
well, you got to let me go, ain't ya?
(Hicock) Did it feel good sticking it to the old man?
I don't know what you're talking about.
(Hicock) Oh, I bet it did. I bet you buzzed off it, didn't ya?
Sticking it to some old codger.
After all, you've had it stuck into you all your life, haven't you?
What the fuck is he talking about?
I've got a report here from Social Services, Mark,
that tells me you've been in and out of foster care
since you were 6 years old.
And you've made some pretty serious allegations of sexual abuse.
That's all bollocks.
I just made all that shit up, for my own reasons.
No one's ever fucked with me like that, you get me?
I'm fucking sick of this. I've been stuck in here for fucking hours now.
You ain't got fuck all on me, so let me go.
Noel, if you use abusive language to myself or my colleague,
or threatening behaviour,
I will have you escorted back to your cell and...
What are they going to do, put me over the fucking table and spank me?
You'd like that wouldn't you, you fucking faggot. And you...
I'll stick it up your fucking arsehole and rip your fucking hair out,
and you'll fucking love every fucking minute of it!
You're the type, I can tell.
Noel, I think you think you're taking control of this situation.
I'll take control of you, you fucking slag.
It seems to me you're losing control, you're losing it.
Is that what happened with Mr. Attwell, Noel?
- Did you get angry like you are now? - Is that your training kicking in?
- Did you lose it? - Are you a fucking psychologist now?
Did you stab him, Noel?
I'll stab you with my fucking cock.
Did you kick him? Did you piss on him?
Is that what happened?
Hold on, I have seen this guy before.
Fucking Freddy Krueger, innit?
(Priest) Our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Who shall change the body of our low estate,
that it may be likened to His glorious body.
We give Thee hearty thanks...
(Inaudible)
(Woman sings)
* I hope you find a little more time
* Remember we were partners in crime
* It's only 2 years ago
* The man with the suit and the pace You know that he was there...
(Harry) And again, Sid.
* Now he's in love with you he's in love with you...
Haven't you had enough, Harry? I don't think I've seen you pissed before.
* But you could leave me standing so tall...
Well, you know, who's gonna complain?
* You are gold...
(Harry) Oh, shit.
* You've got the power to know
* You're indestructible
* Always believe in...
(Laughter)
(Pants)
Give me your fucking money, man.
Are you fucking deaf?!
Give me your fucking money, man!
(Harry breathes heavily)
(Harry gasps)
(Harry pants)
Mr. Brown, DI Frampton.
I thought I might drop by for a quick word, if that's all right?
I'm sorry, is this an inconvenient time for you?
No. Come in.
You were in the marines?
Yes.
Long time ago.
It's quite a chestful of medals.
Are you in the middle of a game?
No.
Well, actually I'm studying the Grandmasters.
This was a game between Fischer and Spassky in Reykjavik, in 1972.
In the 7th match, Fischer opened with what's called a Pirc defence,
he'd never used it before.
Black concedes the centre of the board
in expectations of a counter play.
Spassky was a rook to knight up when...
Anyway, Fischer won.
You don't have anyone to play with.
No.
Not since Len.
You could always get one of those chess computer game things.
You didn't come here to talk about chess.
No.
No, I didn't, I...
I'm looking for some background information on Mr. Attwell.
We recovered the murder weapon at the scene.
It had Mr. Attwell's fingerprints on it,
as well as fibres from his coat,
suggesting that the knife belonged to him.
To be precise, it was an old military bayonet.
Mr. Attwell never served in the forces.
No.
You didn't give it to him, did you?
No.
But you knew he had it?
Oh yeah, I knew. I think his dad gave it to him.
- He showed it to me. - When?
The day he died.
Now, before you say another word,
he was using it as protection.
(Raising his voice) I mean, that man, he was frightened. Terrified.
These kids on the estate, they were harassing him.
He came to me and asked me for help.
I said, "Why don't you go and talk to the police?"
- That was the right thing to do. - Oh, was it?
He told me he talked to the police and what did you lot do? Nothing.
Well, that may be true, but I have a problem.
Counsel will argue that whoever killed Mr. Attwell
did so out of self defence,
which means they'll be charged with manslaughter, not murder.
Jesus Christ.
You came here to tell me that?
I just... I just thought I...
should prepare you for what might end up in court, that's all.
If it ever gets to court.
I won't take up any more of your time.
I'll let you know when there's some further developments.
(Voices from the street)
(Indistinct)
(Dog barks)
(Carl) You look like a couple of Feds, innit?
(Girl screams)
(Carl) See this thing here, blood?
Fucking faggot, you run for it, you're getting this.
(Door being unlocked)
(Door slams)
What the fuck do you want?
I'd like to do some business.
Yeah?
I want to do some business.
I heard that Kenny, and you, were the men to see.
Well, you better come in then, brother.
(Cocks the gun)
Put the fucking gun down, Kenneth.
(Kenneth sniffs)
(Sighs)
So, what do you want?
I want what he's got.
I want a gun.
He's not coming any more, Granddad. It's all over with.
Hitler. 2 world wars and 1...
Shut the fuck up, Kenneth.
What do you want a gun for, brother?
I want to shoot the pigeons,
off...off my roof.
Yeah.
Course you do.
(Sniffs)
(Laughs)
(Loud music playing)
(Panting)
Dirty little fucking bitch.
Is...Is she OK?
She's having the time of her life.
(Groans)
(Kenny grunts)
Ain't ya baby, eh?
Eh?
Ain't ya, Sharon?
Sharon?
Sha-ron. Shar...
(Shouts) Sharon! You fuck!
(Laughs maniacally)
(Sniffs)
(Exhales sharply)
She, er...
She likes to cuddle, this one.
Wanna cuddle her, eh?
50 quid, all in, you can do what you fucking want to her.
She won't remember a thing.
What's the matter, eh?
Can't you get your cock hard any more, old man?
Is that it?
Because we've got plenty of the little blue tablet there.
Just the gun.
Take a seat.
(Syringe hits the floor)
(Breathes deeply)
Start you off on a Glock 17, right?
9-millimetre, semi. It's easy to load.
Easy to shoot.
Weapon of choice for every fucking pig force around the world is that. Have a butchers.
Or, Sig P 226, right?
That's state-of-the-art, high-tech, fucking polymer frame
reinforced with fibre glass.
I don't know what any of that shit means
but it looks fucking cool as crap that, doesn't it? Look at that.
Or if you want to get a bit old school,
I've got just the thing for ya.
Cool shit, that. Smith & Wesson snub nosed .38--
That's a beautiful little gun and a proper fucking stopper.
You can only have 5 rounds in the chamber, can you see?
That's because it's a model 36, right?
Fuck me, mate, each one of them packs a wallop
like a fucking brick through a plate-glass window.
Ammo?
It's a pound a bullet. 7 bills for the .38,
8 and a half for the Glock and a full grand for that Sig there.
(Kenny snorts)
What the fuck are you doing, man?
You don't touch the merchandise until we've seen some fucking coin.
Sorry. I'm sorry.
(Kenny snorts)
(Sharon moans)
Hey, are you sure she's OK?
(Snorts)
Maybe we should take her to the hospital?
What did you just say?
(Sharon moans)
Your girlfriend needs a doctor. Maybe you should call an ambulance.
(Sighs)
Ain't no fucking ambulance gonna come here, brother.
Do you understand me?
OK. OK, I'll... I'll mind my own business. All right?
(Sharon moans)
(Rasping) That's fine.
She ain't your business. She's my business.
Now you pay for your gun
and fuck off before I hurt you.
And you...
I'm gonna deal with you later, Kenneth.
(Sharon moans)
(Sharon coughs)
(Coughs)
Yeah, so...so you were saying 700 for the .38?
- (Kenny) Yeah. (Sniffs) - Hey.
I will say, she's got a nice little set of tits on her.
But you two are a right pair of
- cunts! - (Kenny whimpers)
(Kenny moans)
Look at me.
Oh, yeah...
Pigeons.
(Gun misfires)
(Cries out)
(Breathes heavily)
(Pants and groans)
You failed to maintain your weapon, son.
(Moans)
I don't reckon you've got long.
I've seen that before.
Gut wound.
(Moans)
The slug's probably torn right through your liver.
Mate of mine in Ulster got caught in sniper fire.
The bullet blew his inside out.
(Moans and breathes hard)
He screamed for a good 10 minutes.
You couldn't send a medic in, the section was too hot.
So, we all took cover...
and watched him die.
I've never told that
to anyone.
You should have called an ambulance for the girl.
(Quietly) Put you in here. Ah!
Blimey!
Linda, would you get me a coffee, please?
I understand things are going rather slowly with the stabbing of the pensioner?
You're aware of the shooting on Curzon Street, 2 dead?
As of now, we're forming Operation Blue Jay.
We'll take a zero-tolerance stand on gun-related violence.
We're gonna come down quick and hard on the criminal gangs
that control the flow of heroin on the estate.
I have spoken to Division and they concur.
I'll be leading the squad on this one.
There'll be a full briefing. I expect you and DS Hicock to attend.
The death of your pensioner will have to go on the back burner for a while.
Thank you, Linda.
That'll be all, Inspector.
(Birds chirping)
None of it makes any sense.
You shot 2 drug dealers,
you don't risk being identified by driving this girl to a hospital.
She had that thousand pound in cash on her,
I thought, she must be one of the gang.
What gang?
- Well, Superintendent Childs... - Superintendent Childs?
(Youths shouting and laughing)
(Indistinct conversations)
- Money. - All right, Troy?
Where's the rest of it?
- Coming, yeah? - Don't talk to me like I'm a cunt.
(Indistinct)
That fucking uncle of yours took a ton of gear off me,
and now he's gonna pay up.
We're going to pay you, man.
He's got one week. One fucking week.
Or I'm going to burn that shit hole of his down, with him still in it.
Fuck off. Marky, get in the car.
Marky, get in the fuckin' car!
(Heavy breathing)
(Man moans) Yeah.
(Climaxes)
Fuck off.
(Marky) Oh, fuck!
Shit. Wait. Fucking wait.
(Marky cries)
What's your name, son?
Tell me your name.
Marky.
Tell me what happened in the subway with Leonard, Marky.
(Marky sobs)
Who's Leonard?
He's the man you and your mates murdered.
So, what happened, son?
You're chatting shit there, bruv, I don't know what you're talking about.
(Sobs)
Tell me what happened to Leonard.
Fuck off.
(Marky screams in pain)
(Crying) Fuckin' hell.
You tell me the truth...
- and I won't hurt you any more. - Fuck off, all right?
Fucking Jesus!
(Marky cries)
(Marky, quietly) Fucking Jesus.
Oh fuck, no way.
Now, listen, if you won't tell me,
I'm gonna do both your knee caps,
one at a time until you do.
(Sobbing) Fucking...
So, what's it gonna be?
Because I don't think you can take much more of this.
All right, there was this one old fella...
Fucking...
But he come at us, man.
He was waving this fucking shank around and shit.
Fucking...
Fuck, he told us he was gonna stab us.
We told him to fuck off, like,
gave him a chance, but he wouldn't go.
Then what?
Fucking, just gave him a couple of slaps, that's all, man.
He had this fucking big shank, man. He was mad.
What makes you think I should believe you?
Fuck it, I couldn't give a shit.
- Well you should... - Oh, fucking hell.
if you ever want to walk again.
(Spits) Fuck off!
Fuck off.
Fuck.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fucking wait.
- What the fuck? - Goodbye, Marky.
No, I got the whole fucking thing on my phone.
- You what? - Oh fuck. I'm sorry, man.
- We was just retaliating, bruv. - Where's the phone?
In my pocket.
(Marky sobs)
Go on, make it work.
(Shouting and jeering from phone)
(Indistinct shouting)
Calm down, bruv.
(Girl screams)
(Shouting continues)
(Youth) Right, kill him, man.
(Youth) Kill that pensioner, blood.
(Commotion)
(Marky sobs)
Fuck, I'm sorry.
We just meant to shit him up.
It wasn't me that stabbed him.
Who did?
So ain't no one warned you about me, no?
- No. - You think you're a big girl?
Yeah?
(Giggling)
(Carl) Come on, tease me.
(Carl) Feel my gun.
(Noel) Carl.
(Carl) What?
Get the fuck out of here.
(Sobbing) Get out. He's got a gun.
Who's got a fuckin' gun?
(Guns being cocked)
(Marky cries)
Who's got a fuckin' gun?
Boys, please.
Don't fucking shoot, man.
Wait, please.
Fuck.
Fuck this.
(Marky) Fucking hell, Carl! Wait! Fucking hell!
Fucking wait!
Fuck!
(Harry breathes heavily)
(Harry gasps)
(Harry struggles for air)
(Harry gasps)
(Harry groans)
(Hicock) Mr. Brown, can you hear me?
Do you remember me? I'm Sergeant Terry Hicock.
I'm sorry, sir, I've got to ask you a couple of questions, is that OK?
Did you see anyone on the canal tow path?
(Hicock) No. Are you sure?
Er, excuse me?
If you want to interview Mr. Brown then you'll have to come back.
He's not well enough to answer your questions.
(Frampton) No, of course.
- What exactly is wrong with Mr. Brown? - Emphysema.
For more information you'll have to speak with the doctor.
Oh, wait.
Here, sorry.
Thank you.
So much for our witness.
Where was he found?
Listen, ma'am, we're gonna be late for this briefing.
Is this exactly where Mr. Brown was found?
Yes, ma'am. Uniform said he had trouble breathing and couldn't answer questions.
- Did they search him? - Search him for what?
What do you think he was doing here?
Taking a piss. Walking his dog.
I smelt cordite on his coat.
Right, look, I'm sorry, ma'am, but, er... the Super's briefing started 15 minutes ago
and we're supposed to be there.
(Indistinct conversations)
Apologies, sir.
I have 13 warrants to execute on the estate.
I hope your witness was worth it.
Er, the witness proved, erm, unreliable, sir.
Claims not to have seen anything.
Pity.
Sir, I don't think Harry Brown is a witness.
I think he's our chief suspect.
I'm sorry, I was under the impression
uniform found an elderly gentleman on the tow path.
Yes, that's right, that's correct, sir.
Mr. Brown is a close friend of Leonard Attwell,
the senior citizen found stabbed in the pedestrian subway.
It's the same pedestrian subway where last night's shooting took place
and both victims were questioned in connection with Mr. Attwell's death.
It's too much of a coincidence
that Mister Brown just happened to be found so close by.
So, what you're telling me is
this escalating violence is down to a vigilante pensioner?
Yes.
Do you have any evidence to support that?
Not at the moment, but I'd like to get a warrant
so I can have Mr. Brown's clothes tested for gunfire residue.
Where is Mr. Brown?
He's in the hospital, sir. He's having trouble breathing.
Emphysema.
Also, Dean Saunders was found on that canal stabbed to death.
He too was questioned by myself and Hicock and then released.
Did you know that Troy Martindale was shot in his car last night?
Martindale was a major heroin importer.
2 of Martindale's associates who operate out of Curzon street
were also shot dead a week ago.
Neither of whom you've questioned
in connection with the killing of this old man in the subway.
Of course, you'd have known all this if you'd been at the briefing.
He was with the Royal Marines, stationed in Northern Ireland.
I had the MOD send me his old service record.
Terry, give us a minute, please?
I've had a request from Division.
They're looking for an experienced officer
to head up a major inquiry into identity theft.
Your background makes you the perfect candidate.
I've recommended you and they've accepted.
Take the weekend for yourself, Alice.
Good luck.
(Indistinct conversations)
(Police radio)
(Police shouting)
(Man) Fuck off.
(Officer) Give me your other arm!
(Woman) Oi, fuck off!
(Officer) Move out.
(Officer 2) I'll get you. Come here!
(Officer 3) Get on the fucking floor! (Officer 4) Show me your hands!
(Youth) Fucking, pricks! Fuck off!
(Youth 2) Get off me!
(All shout abuse)
(Shouting and commotion)
(Police radio)
(Flatline beep)
(Police sirens)
(Officers shouting orders)
(Officer) Visors down!
(Cheering)
(Nurse) Mr. Brown?
Mr. Brown, please.
Mr. Brown!
(Mob shouting and jeering)
(Officer) Petrol bomb!
(Officer 2) Get down, incoming! (Officer 3) Move back!
I'm really sorry.
Do you really think Mr. Emphysema's got it in him
to top a load of hoodies?
I've just spoken to the hospital.
He's discharged himself.
Well, we're off the case now, thanks to you.
I think he's going to the estate.
I think he's going to kill Noel Winters.
Who gives a fuck if he is? Noel Winters is a cunt.
His dad was a cunt. One day he's gonna have loads of cunty kids.
As far as I'm concerned, Harry Brown's doing us a favour.
(Hicock sighs)
Come on then.
(Youth) You fucking bastards.
Oh, fucking hell.
(Tyres screeching)
(Hicock) Shit!
(Coughs)
(Frampton grunts)
(Banging on door)
Sid. It's me. It's Harry. Open the door, mate.
(Police sirens)
(Harry strains)
Move that table, I want to put him in the corner.
(Harry) That's it. Get an ambulance.
Don't move, son. He'll be all right.
- Get an ambulance! - Yeah, I'll, er...
(Sobs)
You all right, love?
(Youths whooping outside)
It's not Northern Ireland, Harry.
No, it's not.
Those people were fighting for something.
For a cause.
To them out there, this is just entertainment.
But where does it end...hm?
(Sniffs)
You shoot Noel for what he did to Leonard and then Sid shoots you?
Sid?
What's Sid got to do with it?
Sid Rourke's Noel Winters' uncle.
(Frampton sobbing)
(Dialing tone)
(Harry laboured breathing)
Not looking too good there, me old son.
Where's Noel,
Uncle Sid?
(Mobile phone rings)
Get out here, Noel.
(Sid) Put that down!
Fuck that. This senile old cunt killed Marky and Carl.
I told you to put it down.
Come on, Harry.
You're not going to shoot a kid when there's 2 coppers upstairs, are ye?
- He killed Leonard. - He swore to me that he didn't.
Now what am I supposed to do?
- He's my sister's boy. He's blood. - Blood?
Do you want to see Leonard's blood?
These fucking animals
filmed the whole thing on their fucking phones.
All right.
I defended him when I shouldn't have, but I can't let you shoot him, Harry.
I can't have that.
(Harry struggles to breathe)
Are you all right, Harry?
Are you OK, me old mate?
(Harry moans)
(Door closing)
Officers need assistance.
Armed response, come in. Over.
What are you drinking there, love?
(Noel) Eh?
You fucking slag.
Fucking dirty bitch, look at me.
Look up. Fucking sket.
I told you I'd fuck you, didn't I? You fucking cunt.
(Harry moans)
(Grunts)
You see this?
This is the sort of thing I'm talking about.
It's not a fucking game.
Now in future, you do as you are fucking told!
Yeah?
OK. We do them in here.
Dump them on the street.
That way it'll look like they got caught in the shit storm.
He's half done already.
(Hicock kicking against the floor)
(Hicock still kicking)
(Moans)
(Kicking slows down)
See that? It's nice and easy.
Turn over, you fucking slag.
Come on.
Look at me.
(Choking)
Go on, fucking look at me.
I'll be the last fucking thing you see when you die.
(Exhales) Go on, struggle. Struggle. Go on.
(Noel) Go on.
(Coughs)
(Frampton gasps)
Go on. Do me a favour.
Pull the trigger.
(Officer) Do you have a clear target?
(Indistinct radio response)
Do it.
Please.
(Frampton cries)
Subtitles: Arigon
(Childs) Following the findings of the enquiry
concerning the aftermath of Operation Blue Jay.
The ruling of the committee commend not only myself,
but other members of the squad.
In particular, Detective Sergeant Terry Hicock,
who having tragically lost his life in the line of duty
has been singled out for the Queen's Gallantry Medal for Bravery,
along with fellow officer Detective Inspector Alice Frampton.
(Reporter) Can you confirm or deny the rumours
that a number of deaths on the estate are attributed to a vigilante?
Both the findings of the committee and the police investigation
have found no evidence to support such a theory.
And, can I just say on a personal note, Martin,
that type of wild speculation
undermines the work of the police force
and ultimately does a disservice to members of the public who support it.
Now, as I made clear many months ago
we operate and apply a zero-tolerance policy
with reference to criminal activity
involving firearms and the distribution of drugs.
Most important,
the findings suggest that crime on the estate
has declined by almost 30%.
With continued help from members of the community,
we hope to eradicate the criminal element
who have long since blighted the lives
of the silent majority.