There's a conspicuous absence of plain-clothes personnel still.
You have a nice weekend.
And you, sir.
Surprise!
- Happy birthday. - Ah!
Daddy, you have to make a wish.
Wish, you say?
Done.
Right. Can I have some cake now, please?
No, no, I never saw that.
Oh, my good...
Sandra, not so hard.
Don't worry, Mrs Muncie. I can take it.
Sir?
Eh... No, no. I better not.
According to Agnes, I have given up.
Yes, he has given up.
How's things down in the lab?
Progress is slowly being made, sir.
I managed to persuade Glasgow University's school of medicine
to donate a microscope.
Papa.
Merci, sweetheart.
You're welcome.
Here, take a look at that.
Are you concerned, sir?
To come to your home, that's... That's out of order.
It's just posturing, that's all it is.
Been out for three months. He's kept his nose clean thus far.
Just don't say anything to Agnes, though,
cos I don't want her worrying.
Understood, sir.
Now, the woman you attacked last Sunday had her three-year-old son with her.
That wee boy had to sit and watch while you punched and kicked his mother.
What do you say to that?
I'm innocent.
The woman that you attacked last night said
she'd had an operation.
A woman's operation.
Said she was in pain.
She said she begged you for mercy,
but you went right ahead and you raped her anyway.
What do you say to that?
I say, if you're trying to make me puke, you're doing a bang-up job.
You're not a boy anymore.
There's no more approved school.
There's no more borstal.
This time it's going to be prison, and for a good long while.
See, when you get out,
I'm still going to be here.
Don't waste your time.
Toby Miller, he thinks he's God's gift.
You work at Livingston's, right?
You're on the machines a few rows over from me.
Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't recognise me, either.
It's those chafing shepherd caps they make us wear.
I'm Barbara.
But everybody calls me Babs.
Mary.
You're on your own?
Waiting on some friends.
They were meant to be here by now.
Ba-ba-ba baby.
You're looking good, Babs.
I'm having a conversation, Tony.
Lovely hair you've got, Mary.
Ah, my dog's got a lovely coat, eh?
Why don't you go somewhere you're wanted?
All right.
Later, alligator.
Dipsticks.
Actually, I was thinking about dying it.
What? Don't do that.
I'd kill to be a redhead.
Dear Ma,
I am watching the best years of my life roll away.
And I can tell you, it's no picnic.
You tell me I'm best at doing my nine years
and forget Mr Muncie.
But, unfortunately for him,
I am not made like you.
So, with sincerest apologies and deepest regrets,
I have to tell you that my mind is made up.
One way or another, Mr Muncie is going to pay.
You better hurry, you'll miss your bus.
- See you. - Thank you.
Oh, stupid girl.
Hello?
Don't say a word!
Hello?
Is there anybody there?
Hello?
Say a word and I'll murder you.
I'm going to cut your head off
and bury you.
Not...
a...
peep.
Smoke?
No. No, thank you.
Crazy day.
Crazy, crazy day.
I've been down in the dumps since the moment I woke up.
I even went down the Clyde to drown myself this evening,
but when I got there, I remembered that I can swim.
Sorry you felt down in the dumps.
You should be.
See, when I get down in the dumps, I just...
I feel this overpowering need to murder someone.
- You cold? - No.
- Do you want my blazer? - No, no.
I'm fine, thank you.
Suit yourself.
See, I've never done anything like this before.
Maybe it was your hair.
See, I had a fiancée once.
She was a redhead.
So, maybe that's what did it.
Maybe, if you'd been blonde, I wouldn't have laid a finger on you.
Am I boring you?
No. No.
Let's away.
Come on.
I'll see you home.
It's the least I can do.
Come on.
I suppose you will be reporting me to the police.
No.
I'll go with you now, if you want.
Tell them what I've done.
No, I just want to get home.
I think I'll take off my shoes.
Hey, hey.
Hey!
You've not been eating your carrots.
You could do some serious damage with this.
On you go.
He had a knife.
He told me if I screamed, he'd cut my throat.
That he'd...
cut off my head and bury me.
That must've been very frightening for you.
I told him I had two children...
so he'd think I was older.
Yes, that was good thinking.
He just said I was telling fibs.
He started kissing me.
Touching me.
I told him to stop, he wouldn't.
He started pushing against me.
So, 5' 4", 5' 5"?
Dark hair.
Smartly dressed.
A smoker.
And then this
business with the American accent.
Does that sound about right to you, Mary?
Yes, sir.
Now, I know it's a tall order
to ask you to be precise about such an ordeal,
but are you sure about these times?
Because three and a half hours seems like an awful long time
to be sitting in a field in the middle of the night.
I'm sure, sir.
He said he was going to keep me there all night.
Did he give you any reason for wanting to do that?
No, sir.
We're nearly there.
Don't cry.
Now, is there any...
Anything else that you can remember, maybe?
It doesn't matter how small it is.
I think he might live on our estate.
What makes you say that?
I think I've seen him before.
I think him and his dad take the same bus as me to work.
You're good?
Boys!
Mr Manuel?
What the bloody hell do you want?
It's not bloody enough
for you to deprive our Peter of his liberty for nine years
for crimes he did nae do.
Nine years!
No, that's not enough, is it? No.
The disgrace to our family.
The disgrace!
Muncie, I'm talking to you.
Yes, Mr Manuel, I'm aware of that.
Bastards.
Peter.
Mrs Manuel.
How's your work at the hospital, Theresa?
Fine.
Peter!
Detective Inspector Muncie.
Long time no see.
What brings you here?
Aye, I was in the field, just, not with her.
Your father said you were in all night.
I'm his son. He's looking out for me.
You mean he lied to the police?
Come on, Muncie.
Keep the old buffer out of it.
I've told you, I was there.
Now, show me what you've learned since our last encounter.
Dazzle me with some detective brilliance.
If you weren't with the victim in the field,
what were you doing there?
Checking on my snares. I was seeing if I'd caught any coneys.
Poaching rabbits?
Guilty as charged.
We found a sheathed knife in the field
in a location consistent with where Ms McLauchlan said you'd thrown it.
She identified it as the knife you'd used to threaten her with.
Any fingerprints on it?
The knife matched her description.
What? Sharp and pointy?
Where does she get this stuff?
The only reason my knife was in that field was cos of Rusty,
my dog.
He was sniffing about the railway tracks,
so I slung the knife at him to scare him back to me.
Ms McLauchlan picked you out of the line-up.
You looked at her
in a manner that suggested that you knew her.
Why was that?
It's a nice bit of WPC you've got in here, boys.
Mr Muncie asked you a question.
You look awful fetching in that uniform, darling.
Watch your mouth!
Oh, ho, ho!
I think there's a wee smack of romance in the air.
Peter.
Yes, sir.
Had you met Ms McLauchlan before?
No.
Did you get my birthday card?
You're going to hear
that Peter Manuel just loves the sound of his own voice.
"Peter Manuel is all mouth and no trousers."
I don't want any of you getting taken in by any of that.
Because Peter Manuel
is a very real threat to the women of this community.
In 1946, when he was out on bail,
he seriously assaulted a young mother walking home with her child.
Four days later,
he attacked and sexually assaulted a second woman.
And the very next day, he attacked and raped a third.
Now, he did nine years in Peterhead for those crimes,
and he very badly wants to make up for all that lost time.
Mary McLauchlan was the first.
I want to make sure that she's also the last.
Now, he's up in court on Tuesday
and he's got a chance at bail.
It is our job to guarantee
that there is enough evidence for a conviction.
Well, good luck.
Go on, with ya.
Oh, come on, Ma.
Putting me off my grub standing there all gloomy.
Is there something you want to say to me, son?
Like what?
You know.
Think I did it, don't you?
You think I did that to that poor girl?
That hurts, Ma.
I don't want to hurt you, son. I want to help you.
If that's the best you can do, feel free not to try.
- Morning, Hugh. - Morning, sir.
Go on.
Bill.
Sir?
Too many man-hours on this Manuel thing.
Well, that's just because I don't want to leave anything to chance, sir.
The lassie wasn't raped, no theft. Your approach is out of proportion.
Yeah, I'm not sure Mary McLauchlan would see it that way, sir.
Well, she's not your boss.
You've got Sheriff "Bang 'Em Up" Boyd on Tuesday.
There's no way the nasty little tart is getting bail.
It's not just the bail, sir.
We've also got the trial to consider.
I mean, look what he got up to last time.
He lost.
Don't go getting obsessive, Bill. Let the lawyers deal with the trial.
Yes, sir.
We have some items of Manuel's clothing.
And the footprints from the field
exactly match the tread on his shoes.
Also,
thanks to our new bit of kit,
I was able to ascertain that soil found on his shoes and trousers
was consistent with samples taken from the field.
And then there's this.
A significant quantity of dried semen.
Just like 1946.
Premature ejaculation.
It's the fear in his victims which arouses him
rather than penetrative intercourse.
It's not just about catching him, Laird,
it's about finding out what makes him tick.
Yes, sir.
This is excellent work, Hugh.
Thank you, sir.
Remanded to Barlinnie pending trial, sir.
Thank you, Sheriff Boyd.
I think we're allowed a wee smile, Iris.
"Six hundred mourners were in attendance
"at the Friends Church in Fairmount, Indiana.
"An estimated 2,400 fans gathered outside the church."
For a poxy actor who balled and greeted his way
through a grand total of three films?
People are mugs.
And you could do better, I suppose?
I will do better, pal.
I'm not some poxy actor, neither.
Yep. Thanks.
Manuel's put in a request to conduct his own defence.
Prison doctor's examined him and declared him sane and fit to plead.
Cocky wee arse is definitely stuffed now.
For God's sake, Duncan, he did the exact same thing nine years ago.
Represented himself in court.
The judge even complemented him on his professionalism.
He never does anything without a reason.
It says that women are more likely
to poison their victims than men.
Hmm. Isn't that curious?
Bill.
Why do you think...
Why do you think Manuel kept Mary with him for three and a half hours?
When he got what he wanted in 10 minutes?
Well, there's no mystery there.
He
wanted to drag it out for as long as possible.
Poor girl.
Mr Manuel.
Ms McLauchlan, have you ever spoken to me
at any time prior to the night of Saturday, the 13th of July, 1955?
No.
I'm sorry, Ms McLauchlan. Could you speak up, please?
No.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
you've heard one version of what transpired that fateful night.
Now, is the time for you to hear the truth.
Somewhat embarrassing facts, which to spare Ms McLauchlan's blushes,
I declined to tell the police.
Objection, My Lord.
On what grounds, Mr Farrel?
There is a danger here
that he may seek to unfairly influence jury opinion
with unsubstantiated statements not made under oath.
Indeed, there is, Mr Farrell.
And now, the jury have been alerted to it.
You may continue, Mr Manuel.
Thank you, My Lord.
Is it not true,
Ms McLauchlan,
is it not true,
Mary,
that for some weeks prior to the night
of 13th of July, 1955, you and I had been,
as the saying goes,
"romantically involved"?
Ms McLauchlan, His Lordship did not ask you the question.
I asked you the question.
No, that's not true.
Furthermore, is it not also true
that on the night in question,
I told you, as tactfully as I was able,
that I wished our affair to end?
That you were saddened by this information,
and that I tarried at your side to proffer you some comfort?
Her silence is eloquent, is it not?
Ladies and gentlemen, what other plausible explanation
can there be for the fact that the witness,
by her own admission,
spent over three hours,
half the night, with me,
a total stranger she would have you believe,
in a field.
No.
He's lying.
He's lying!
They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Well, I've certainly learned my lesson in that regard.
No further questions, My Lord.
Please, sir, you can't believe him.
Calm down, Ms McLauchlan.
I swear to God, I've never met him before in my life.
- Ms McLauchlan... - Please.
He's a liar!
- Ms McLauchlan. - Please!
There she is.
There's the slag.
Hey, you tart.
Have a heart, boys. Life's not easy for gingers.
Mary.
The law let you down badly today.
But I want you to know that I will not rest
until Peter Manuel's behind bars.
Oh, leave her alone.
Promise me.
I promise you.
- Hello, darling. - Hello.
Mum, he's early.
Well, don't just stand there.
Come in, Douglas, she's just getting ready.
Thank you, Mrs Muncie.
Sir.
Douglas is taking our daughter to the pictures.
Which one was it, again?
Lady and the Tramp, sir.
You don't let her out of you sight
and you get her back here by 11:00 sharp.
Yes, sir.
I'll just go check on Jane.
Jane.
All right, I'm off out.
Doing anything nice, son?
Ask me no questions, Ma, I'll tell you no lies.
- Bye, son. - See you.
What is it, Bill?
Do you remember Jane up at View Park?
Going on at me and going on at me to make the fencing stronger
- round about the hen house? - Yeah.
Me being too busy, and then, of course,
the fox getting amongst the hens.
And she wouldn't speak to me for a week.
You can't build a fence around every house in the country, Bill.
I know.
If, heaven forbid, that monster does strike again,
you will catch him.
They will put him away for years.
What if, this time, he does something worse?
What if this time he doesn't leave a witness?
Excuse me.
I see you dyed your hair.
Yeah.
It suits you.
Do you want to dance?
Definitely.
You're an okay dancer.
Thanks very much.
Sorry, I'm, er, only a little drunk.
What's your name?
Private, er... Private Andrew Murnin.
You?
Private Anne Kneilands.
You know what, Private Kneilands?
What?
I think 1956 is going to be a good year.
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll January 2017
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll Released on www.Addic7ed.com