Oh, shit.
Morning, ma'am.
Hey, Northy. Did you bring a stake?
Piss off!
Silly bastards.
What are we waiting for?
- Dawn. - That's only a tradition.
If we wait till then, we'll have half of Cambridge out to watch the show.
Thank you, Dr Ryan, but tradition has its place.
Well, I suppose we'd better make a start, then.
But the coffin stays put till first light.
Hold it.
They're from the village.
I could murder a cup of coffee.
Gary, are you there?
Gary?
Gary, get the door. Get the door.
- They're in the cemetery. - Who?
- The police. - Eh?
What is happening, Gary?
Well, how should I know?
Get out of there! The lot of you!
- Go home! - Get out!
- Hello, Coleman. - Ma'am.
Look, you'd better get over there and keep them calm.
Constable.
Yes, ma'am.
- What is it? - An exhumation.
- You what? - Who are they digging up?
That little girl that got murdered.
What, Kim Wallace?
It has to be, hasn't it?
- Leave her alone, you bastards. - Hey.
What right have you got to do this? It's a disgrace.
- Come on, son. - Leave her alone!
All right. Calm down.
Coleman. I'm gonna need help down here...
Were they like this when she was on trial?
Doesn't the murder of a child outrage you?
Yes, but I want justice, not a witch hunt.
Message understood, Coleman.
Unit One at the gates, please.
I don't know how you can stand there and hold your head up, Peter Coleman.
I don't like this any more than you do, Mrs Phillips.
It's her behind all this, innit? That Wallace bitch.
Have you got the kit, Anthony?
Let's get this out of here.
I think it's enough. Let's get it up.
There is an atmosphere of discontent here at Fen Reach,
and this controversial exhumation is just one more blow
to this little fenland community where the wounds of the past
- have been so slow to heal. - They're on the move.
Oh, great! I'm going to need a lift to the mortuary.
Can someone stay with it till it's sorted?
Be nice if there's something left to tow away.
Right.
- Any tea? - Yeah, it's in the pot.
Pour it, then.
Ronnie? Are you all right?
I should have seen her when I had the chance.
Seen who?
My Sarah.
It's like she's not really gone.
She died and I don't feel it.
I don't understand why.
She just walked out of that door...
We don't even know what happened.
- Gary? - What?
Nothing.
No.
Say it, if you're thinking it.
Fred.
Externally, we have extensive conversion of the body to adipocere
which predominates.
Considerable putrefaction, as might be expected after three years
in wet, peaty soil.
The torso is brittle to the touch and...
We've not had anything like this happen before.
Dr Matthews was a very experienced pathologist.
Experience is wasted on some people.
The gross physical marks of the original autopsy remain externally visible.
A dead body isn't a person, it's a puzzle,
a story, with a beginning, middle and an end.
There is an area of mummification in the head.
There's not a lot of middle in this one.
The three postmortem processes coexisting in the same body.
He doesn't love me?
Can I have it back?
What would you know about that?
Please.
- You haven't told him, have you? - No.
I suppose you're gonna say he loves you.
He did, I thought.
He screwed you. So what? Everybody did.
He needed me.
Nobody ever needed me like that.
Except the baby.
When you're in bed, he holds you so close,
like, so tight it's like he can't stand to let go.
Not even for a minute.
Then Kim would start crying, and that sound...
It was like it hurt him.
He was...
You know, don't you?
Look, I used to think it was his age. I used to say it was his age.
His cow of a mother, his dad.
Even when he was bad, I thought that a part of him still loved me.
Till I saw him on the telly with his arm around you
talking about your little girl.
You'd say anything to get out of here.
Any lie.
You'd even let them dig up your little daughter.
- What? - You're not ill.
Or thick. You're bloody evil.
You might fool the do-gooders but you don't fool me.
You killed that baby, and digging her up ain't gonna prove no different.
- What are you doing here? - Get in.
Little Wallace prick.
The mood was extremely angry here
outside the cemetery at Fen Reach,
where the exhumation of Kim Wallace took place in the early hours of this morning
under the supervision of the pathologist Dr Samantha Ryan.
Sam? Why are you in the telly?
It's just to do with my job, Mummy.
Were you looking for Daddy?
You won't find him, you know.
Can we talk about something else, please?
There wasn't even six bits of Daddy.
Not six bits for six counties.
Mammy.
Don't start. I've had a very bad day.
Me, too. Mine wasn't on the telly.
All right, just tell me what I'm supposed to do.
- It's Ricky. - What about him?
He thinks the sun shines out of your arse.
Would you just take him for a wee while?
Please.
The original tox results showed very high levels of diazepam in the tissues.
Poisoning with tranquillisers was almost certainly the cause of death.
Oh.
The rest of the PM, however, looks entirely different.
Multiple fractures to the ribs.
Overlooked.
Just like Sarah Crew, except in this case we also have a fractured ankle.
The same man's involved with both women, similar damage is done to their children.
Coincidence?
A policeman who believes in coincidence?
- Well, Marion could still have done it. - Oh, come on.
Well, we need to eliminate the possibility.
We're gonna have to interview her.
But there's a problem.
She won't talk to us. She wants to talk to you.
There'll have to be a police presence, of course.
- Who's she? - DC Cox.
- I want to talk to you alone. - They won't allow it.
What you did to my baby...
- Digging her up. You had no right. - I had no choice.
You didn't listen. I told you...
You didn't tell me about the ankle, Marion.
What?
No, I told you on the phone, it was all me.
You didn't know about the ankle, did you?
- Yeah. - So how did you do it?
Did you pick her up and shake her?
Did you drop her? Did you throw her against the wall?
Which ankle was it, Marion? Look at me.
What's going on here?
- I'm on official business. - Are you going to do anything about...
Why are you protecting him?
Dr Ryan?
- How can you do this? - Look, Dr Ryan...
What kind of woman are you?
He killed your baby and you let him get away with it.
I won't talk to you.
Are you going to let him get away with it again?
Is this a police interview?
- Stop him. - This is Dr Ryan...
For your baby's sake.
She'll only talk to Dr Ryan.
My baby's dead. My baby's dead! My baby's dead!
My baby's dead! My baby's dead!
I'm terminating this interview now.
- He'll do it again. - Dr Ryan.
Don't you understand?
What can he do to you in here?
Please stop this.
- You don't know. - Dr Ryan...
- I told you to leave it alone. - ...I would prefer you
to leave of your own accord
but if you don't, I'm quite prepared to have you removed by force.
Bitch.
Who do you think you are?
Don't shout at me.
Twice. Twice!
Just like the inquest!
I had to stop the inquest, you'd stopped the investigation.
Why didn't you tell us Marion had changed her mind?
Dr Ryan doesn't believe she can trust us.
Well, why should we trust her ever again?
You're not the only forensic pathologist in Cambridge.
No, you'd rather have someone you can use. Someone like Matthews.
I'd rather have someone rational.
- Rational? - Tom.
You see, Dr Ryan is on a crusade.
The less proof she has, the more certain she gets.
There is still, still no connection established
between the abuse and the cause of death.
No, you're right, but there is one.
That man's anger is buried in those children's bodies.
I can feel it.
And Marion's still protecting him.
I just don't understand why these women keep going back.
No, I've talked to her. It's not Gary she's protecting.
No, you're right.
It's not Gary.
Michael Wallace, age 12 years.
In care. Foster home. Millham School.
You watch telly in bed?
Yes, I do. And this is private. Out.
I can't watch that one downstairs. It hurts me eyes.
- How's the homework situation? - It's cool.
Is it done? I've got your mother to answer to.
It's done. It's wonderful.
Get the door.
- Is that Trevor? - Dr Ryan?
- Who are you? - It's all right, Ricky.
Make yourself at home. I'll see you later.
You were right, you know.
Michael did visit Marion in the prison immediately before the exhumation.
- Which was just before she phoned me. - Yes.
Usually he visits her once a month with a social worker,
but this time he was on his own.
Phillips really knows how to get to her, doesn't he?
- Yeah. - Are you gonna pull him?
I don't know. Maybe.
Who's the kid?
My bodyguard.
Okay!
Let's go.
- I'll come back by cab. - That's all right.
- Is Gary Phillips in here? - In there.
Where is he?
You dug up any more kids today, Adams?
Just tell him I want a word.
Did you get that? Did you hear that?
I heard.
You hear this.
That Wallace whore lived in our village. We knew her.
You know Gary as well.
I don't suppose you would happen to know where he is?
I'm going to go and powder my nose.
Any of you boys like to join me?
That bitch should have been hanged in the first place.
Are you his totty?
Can't help wondering.
Two kids dead.
What sort of a person is this?
Is this a man?
No.
This is not a man.
I was there at the autopsies.
I saw the shattered little bodies,
the broken bones.
Now, what do you think someone like me would do to someone like that?
Well, I know what I'm gonna do.
I'm gonna lock him up
together with the rapists and the child molesters
and all the other pathetic little perverts.
But first,
I'm gonna nail his dick to the floor.
You take care, now.
- You little prick. - Leave me alone!
You mouthy little prick.
- You told him, didn't you? - Leave me alone!
- You told him where I was! - Who?
- The law. - Everybody knows you go there!
Anybody could have told him.
But you told him, didn't you?
You little shit!
I'm sorry, mate.
- You know what I'm like. - It's all right.
Look,
I'll buy you another one in the morning.
Better.
A really good one.
They want to blame me.
They're trying to blame me.
It's not fair.
Kelly Oliver in black and red.
Maybe just three minutes or so away from retaining his light heavyweight title
in the 81 kilogram division.
Totally contrasting styles.
Branch using that long left hand of his
and Olive stepping inside...
Bollocks.
Shit!
He's upstairs.
Ricky?
Let me look at you. Are you all right?
Stop it.
What?
Just stop it.
It's a bloody mess.
My fault, I'm afraid.
I tried to wind him up.
- Phillips? - Yeah.
You succeeded.
Looks like somebody feels pretty strongly about something.
And so do I.
You know where Phillips lives?
Yeah.
I was scared.
I can imagine.
Your grandad, when the bomb went off,
the explosion was so big
it carried the Land Rover way up into the air.
Your mum saw. We just heard.
It landed in a hedge 30 yards away.
He'd seen it happen to others.
He knew it could easily happen to him,
but he still went out there every day,
because he was a brave man.
The kitchen was my fault.
You're made from strong stuff, Ricky Ryan.
Thanks, Fred.
Boss.
How long have you got?
We have to have him in court by 11.
So, he smothered her and then threw her in the water.
But we can't prove it, right?
The rope burns.
From the swing.
She's too small. She could only hold the end of the rope.
So how did she get them?
She must have been holding on higher up.
Someone must've helped her.
He didn't smother her, did he?
No. It was worse than that.
She drowned and he watched.
Any news on the sweet wrappers?
Yep, we found these at the scene. They'd only been there a few hours.
This is the analysis of the stomach contents.
This is the residue from the wrappers.
She was eating sweets.
And we lifted his fingerprint from the beer can.
16 points of similarity. We've got him.
For the break-in. I'm only interested in Kim and Sarah.
We have evidence placing you inside Dr Ryan's house,
in the bedroom.
Did you remove Dr Ryan's underclothes from the dressing table
and burn holes in them?
Gary? Was that you?
The sweet papers at the scene match the sweets in her stomach.
He gave them to her.
Can you prove it?
No.
If we can't put him at the riverbank when the child died, we've got nothing.
I'd like to turn to a possible motive for this attack.
Dr Ryan is a forensic pathologist who is investigating the deaths of two children.
First, Kim Wallace,
the daughter of Marion Wallace.
- Did you know Kim? - The baby she killed?
Did you touch the baby?
Never.
- Not even when you were in bed with Marion? - No.
Babies cry. Kim cried all the time.
Marion must have had to get up to leave you.
- I've said... - Babies, they cry.
It seems like it's never gonna stop.
It really gets to the mother, did it get to you?
- No. - Did it make you feel jealous?
My client has answered your questions.
- Angry? - No.
Please don't browbeat my client.
Kim and Sarah.
The same injuries.
The same anger.
The same person grasped these children in his hands
and crushed their ribs.
- What? - Then they died.
You have admitted to knowing both mothers.
You must have known both children.
My client wishes to say that he is under a great deal of stress
as a result of the death of his friend's daughter.
Yes?
He feels unable to answer any questions at this time.
I can imagine.
Now I'd like to turn to the death of Sarah Crew.
I'd like to put something to you, Gary.
- I'm saying nothing. - Then listen.
We believe that someone intercepted Sarah on the way to school.
Someone who knew the way she would go.
We believe that person led Sarah through the woods
and across the fields and down to the river.
Do I have to listen to this?
Just a little longer.
He probably knew that although she fell from the swing at the picnic,
it was one of the few places where she felt happy.
Then he helped her up onto the swing,
setting her feet on either side of the rope on the knot
and getting her to hold on tight.
Maybe he planned what happened next.
What do you think?
Maybe not.
Maybe he just let go.
Swung her out over the deeper water.
Then harder and harder.
Again and again.
So violently that she couldn't hold on and lost her footing on the knot
and slipped down the rope,
her hands burning.
She cried out, and then she fell in.
And as we know, she couldn't swim.
So he must have stood and watched.
The good part urging him into the water,
the angry part holding him back.
Three times, don't they say?
- Was she badly afraid? - My client has nothing to say.
How many times did you push her before she fell?
My client has nothing further to say.
You've had your time, Inspector, charge my client or release him.
Detective Inspector Adams is leaving the room.
The time is 10:53. We are interrupting the interview.
If we could just get him away from that prat.
What happens now?
Court. He gets bail.
We'll make it a condition that he stays away from you.
It's not me I'm worried about.
I need to talk to you, Ronnie.
I'll stay here all day if I have to.
It won't go away.
You have to face up to the truth.
The morning she died,
you sent her off to school alone.
You didn't give her any breakfast.
Ronnie!
You sent her to school with a bag of sweets.
No.
- Somebody bought her sweets. - No.
Did she have any money?
Were these her favourites?
Who would know that?
Who would know that, Ronnie?
I'm so tired.
Can I help you?
Excuse me? Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?
Julie, off you go. Hurry up.
Julie!
Visitors are supposed to report to the office.
It's Gary, isn't it?
Oi, Dean!
Michael Wallace. Where's Michael Wallace?
- Get the police now! - Dean?
Now, put the telephone down.
Dean!
Piss off!
Adams. Inspector Adams.
- Don't you speak to me like that! - Gary's at school.
Who are you talking to?
Hello?
She wouldn't have gone with him.
He gave her sweets.
- Had he ever done that before? - No.
Then he took her to the riverbank.
No, she wouldn't have gone with him.
- Why not? - She was too frightened.
I know what he did to her when she was younger.
The violence.
He's young. He's got a temper.
Children want to be loved.
She'd have gone with him.
He killed her, Ronnie, and he'll kill again.
No, Gary. No, I didn't say anything, I never have.
This is all your fault!
- I said nothing! - Yes, you did.
You know what they want to do to me! You know where they want to take me!
- No! - And you'll help them!
You little bitch! You'd like that, wouldn't you?
You'd all like that!
No! No!
Eh? Wouldn't ya?
Stop it! Leave her alone!
Gary, leave him alone!
Gary.
Look at him.
That's yours, that is.
Piss bag.
That long string of useless piss.
Open the door, Ronnie!
Cold.
Get an ambulance, quickly.
Call an ambulance. I can't leave this.
Come on, let go, Dean.
- He won't hurt us any more? - No, he won't.
Come on.
- Where are you taking me? - Come on.
We lost him.
Did we?
I don't call that losing him.
I should have got the bastard three years ago.
I meant the boy.