I know what you're thinking.
A young man, a young black man,
breaks into the home of a retired soldier,
a man who has served his country with distinction.
Steals his money,
even steals his medals.
I imagine you're pretty disgusted. I am.
It was fine. All right. I'll see you later, darling.
I'm sure you've already formed your own opinions of Liam Johnstone,
but you cannot allow those opinions
to get in the way of the evidence.
Major Cartwright... is a war veteran.
But again, you cannot allow that to cloud your judgement.
Because it may well be
that Liam Johnstone is as much a victim in all of this
as Major Cartwright himself.
Are you sure... it was him?
Are you sure he was there?
Because it pains me to say it, but this would not be the first time
the police have made mistakes.
Do remember that.
Will? Mm-hm?
You're back? Yeah.
Where've you been? You've been ages.
I, erm... I went for a walk.
It was a very long walk.
Erm, where are the sausages?
Oh, erm...
Tea? Uh, yeah.
Who ate the sausages? The dog.
Sorry.
So what are your plans for today?
I'm seeing someone.
Someone? That's right, Dad.
And does he have a name? What makes you think he's a 'he'?
Ah, if he wasn't a 'he', you'd have told us her name.
How about... 'Joe'?
A name chosen to be deliberately neutral.
All right, listen, I've got to go.
Has anyone seen my copy of Animal Farm?
You're not teaching that, are you, Mum? It's behind the toaster.
I did it for A-Level.
Bye.
You haven't eaten anything. No, I'm not hungry.
It's nothing. It's just work.
Since when has work ever been 'just nothing'?
Bye! Bye-bye.
Mr Watts, why were you in Elcott Street...
.. on the night of the 15th?
I was on my way home.
You work as a security guard, I believe? That's right.
I wasn't feeling great, so er, I knocked off early.
Oh. And what was your profession before you were a security guard?
I was with the police.
And er, while you were with the force,
did you at any time know Liam Johnstone? No.
And yet you were able to identify him.
Well, I didn't know who he was.
I just saw someone.
I suppose you could say it was instinct.
I just knew he was up to no good.
You gave a very precise description to the police.
Yes. Well, I saw him in the streetlight.
And that would be the streetlight at the corner of...
Beechmore Road and Elcott Street?
Yes.
Would you mind having a look at this?
This is exhibit IC 17.
It is a report from Ipswich Council into street maintenance
in the Beechmore Road area.
Can you take a look at paragraph three, please?
Now, according to that report,
the streetlight that you are referring to was in fact vandalised
two nights before the break-in.
No. No, it was working.
And you were at least 15 metres away from the man you described.
Mr Watts, when you were in the force,
you were a good friend of the arresting officer,
Detective Sergeant Bowman, were you not?
You know better than that, Mr Travers.
Forgive me, your Honour. No further questions.
What did you do, give him a bung? Who?
You know who! Dennis Watts. No!
Oh, just a coincidence, was it,
that he happened to turn up, as your star witness? I didn't pay him.
If this gets any worse, you'll be joining him, you pillock!
Bleedin' streetlight! Liam Johnstone's scum.
He's been breaking and entering and dealing and thieving
since he got out the last time.
They should be thanking us for putting him away.
Is that what you think? They won't thank you.
They don't give a toss what happens on the street.
Look at the way they dress, the way they speak.
It's nothing to do with the real world, the law. It's just a game.
I didn't talk to Watts. I didn't say anything.
You're an idiot.
'And at the end, almost too weak to speak,
he whispered in my ear that his sole sorrow
was to have passed on before the windmill was finished.
"Forward comrades," he whispered.
"Long live Animal Farm. "'
I don't get it. I thought they took him to the knacker's.
Ah well, Squealer's lying.
Erm, Boxer's been killed by Napoleon,
and he's just telling them what he wants them to believe.
Why's he do that?
Because it's his character, because he uses lies to hang onto power.
What, you mean cos he's a pig?!
I don't like pigs.
It's not about animals.
Go on, Alan.
Well, it's about communists, isn't it?
About Russia and all that. What shit are you talking about, Alan?
Erm, Simon! Alan's right.
Look, on one level, this is a story about animals, yeah?
Well, isn't he a clever little boy, then?
You going to give him a teacher's star? I-I -
The book's crap. It's all crap.
Hi.
Hey.
How's it going? Oh, you know...
This kid Liam Johnstone.
Beaten up by his step-father when he was three,
in care by the time he was six, on drugs by the time he was sixteen.
He has almost no education and apart from the last time he was sentenced,
nobody has ever been on his side.
But you are.
I'm missing something.
No, I... I'm looking at it, but I just can't see it.
Why don't you stop for dinner?
Yeah, yeah, why not?
So how was your day?
It was OK. You know, I'm still getting dirty looks from the warder.
Sorry, security guard.
It's not a prison, it's a young offenders institute.
And they're not prisoners, they're residents.
Oh, I have to get used to the language!
And how are the residents enjoying Animal Farm? Oh, I don't know.
I mean, there's one boy there who's quite bright. His name's Alan.
Is this off? No, it's fine.
You know, he's scared of his own shadow.
He's about 17 and he's been in there God knows how long.
But he completely got it.
Shall we open some wine?
This morning, when you were out walking with the dog. Mm-hm?
I know I was out like a light last night,
but I got the feeling it was much earlier.
You know, it wasn't six. It was more like four.
No, no, it wasn't.
I don't mind you working all night, Will.
I just... You know, I just want you to take care.
You'll exhaust yourself.
Jarrold?
Su, I need your advice.
I don't know why. You never take it.
That's not true!
If you'd taken my advice, you'd never have left London.
Certainly wouldn't have come back here.
Oh, come on, you know perfectly well I didn't really have any choice.
I know, darling, you had to follow Will
and I know you'd do anything for him.
But why the two of you had to come back here, of all places!
Suffolk never suited you, even when you were little.
I still remember when you ran away.
I only got as far as Woodbridge. You should have kept going.
This is the sort of place that will send you mad.
I think everyone I know is mad in one way or another.
You like it here. Yes, and you don't.
I never understood how you could just dump it all like that.
Actually, Henry's offered me my old job back.
In London? Commissioning Editor.
My own list, full autonomy, the works.
So what did you say?
I said no. No?
Well, I can't... work in London. I can't commute. It would never work.
So what are you asking my advice for? Because you know you're wrong.
Darling, you ought to go and you need someone to tell you.
Yes.
So go!
You know, man, this is all lies. It's all just bullshit!
Hey, Liam! Just do me a favour, will you, and calm down, huh?
We're very nearly there.
Look, I told you, Mr Travers.
I never went near that old man's house.
The police tried to make me sign a confession.
They don't care if I did it or not - Look, the evidence against you is already falling apart.
The only question now is the medal, the Pacific Star?
I don't know nothing about no medal.
They said they found it in your flat.
Nah, that's not what they said. They said it was in my pocket.
They took it out of your pocket?
This is the medal, the Pacific Star that you found on Liam Johnstone.
Is that correct? Yes, sir.
You're quite sure of that? Yes, sir.
Would you accept that all Pacific Stars are pretty much the same?
They may do. But I found that one in Mr Johnstone's jacket pocket.
How can you be so sure that this is the same medal
as the one belonging to Major Cartwright?
After all, there are plenty of antique shops in Ipswich
selling near identical medals, I'm sure you'd agree.
And this one, erm, looks brand new.
Major Cartwright polished his collection every week.
Did he? Yes, sir.
Actually, he polished it the day it was stolen.
And he told you that? Yes, sir.
So how do you explain a forensic examination
of Liam Johnstone's clothing, paying particular attention to his pockets,
revealed not a single trace of oxalic acid, silica, or whiting
or in fact any of the chemicals that constitute commercial silver polishing liquids?
I don't know. Unless it was a different medal.
Or unless of course,
this medal was never actually in Liam Johnstone's pocket at all?
Thank you.
After you.
Oh, here they come!
Yes, yes! I knew it, I knew it!
Mark, Mark, I'm going to need you.
You've got to be on my side.
You're on your own.
You're late. I put your tea in the oven.
I'm not hungry.
Didn't it go well? What do you think?
I'm sorry. The case fell apart.
Liam Johnstone walked free, so now he can go and burgle someone else.
And Harry's going to get the push at the very least
for attempting to pervert the course of justice.
It's a joke. The IA have already been onto him.
It's not fair. It's wrong.
These bleedin' lawyers don't care what they do so long as they get paid!
You go and sit in front of the telly. I'll bring supper into you.
I told you. I don't want to eat!
Mark, look what you've done now. You've woken Claire. Oh sod it!
It's all right.
Come on, my baby, it's all right, it's all right.
Shush, shush.
Take a seat, Wenborn.
I prefer to stand if you don't mind, sir.
I said, 'take a seat'. Just do as you're told, will you?
This mess with Bowman - you have anything to do with it?
Come on, the two of you were as thick as thieves!
Did you know what he was up to?
He was the arresting officer, it were his case.
I just signed off on the paperwork. I hope so, for your sake.
Bowman's out pending an Internal Affairs investigation,
and from what I can see, he won't be coming back.
Good riddance in my view.
But that leaves the question at what to do with you.
Sir?
There's been an incident at a farm near Framlingham.
A man called John Jarrold, some sort of casual labourer,
shot in the head and left to rot for a week, so it's not very nice.
You can have it.
And you can take Taylor with you. Taylor?
I'm sorry, have you got a problem? He's a schoolboy.
He's young, he's bright and he might learn something from you.
And don't even think about arguing with me, Wenborn,
because can you see this?
This means that I'm the Assistant Chief Constable
and I get to tell you what to do and who you work with.
It's called an order.
You get the idea? Yes, sir.
Keep me informed.
That's all.
Councillor Evans, please. Stephen Packard.
So have you got everything? Yep.
Erm, did you say goodbye to your dad?
Mum, it's only uni. I'll be back in a couple of weeks.
And yes, I saw him last night.
You know he won his case? He said.
Why is it? He doesn't even like law any more.
Like after he was ill, why didn't he just give it up altogether?
Well, he couldn't give it up. Why not?
Well... it's not about liking it or not liking it.
It's what he is.
Go on, get your train, and keep the house clean!
And no all-night parties!
Have a great time. OK!
Morning, all. Mr Travers.
Good morning, Rosie. Good morning, Mr Travers.
Well done on Crown versus Johnstone. Ah, thank you very much.
I'm afraid I've got a wee bit of a problem, I'm sorry to say. Oh?
A solicitor here up from London, a lady wanting to see you.
It's a murder charge. Didn't you tell her?
I told her you don't do murders any more, I made it quite clear.
I also told her you don't do London.
But she wouldn't listen to me and I didn't know what to do with her
so I've put her in your room. Oh, Malcolm!
She said she wouldn't leave without speaking to you.
And she also said that her client is someone that you know,
someone close to you.
Who's she talking about? Martin Newall.
Do you know him?
Yeah, I was at university with him.
But I haven't seen him for 20 years.
Who's he accused of murdering?
His secretary. But he's pleading not guilty.
I saw a piece on the News At Ten.
She was strangled in a five-star hotel.
Five-star, hm! That must have been a consolation.
Her name is Natalie Chandra. Do you want me to get rid of her?
No. No. I'll er... I'll see her.
Here, hold these. Thank you.
Ms Chandra. Natalie.
Good to meet you. Thank you for seeing me.
You're more than welcome.
What can I do for you?
I'll get straight to the point, erm...
You once knew my client.
Yes, Martin Newall. We studied law together at Cambridge.
You hadn't heard that he'd been arrested?
No, I didn't see the news. Murder, yeah?
He says he's innocent.
The magistrates have already refused bail
but we have a second hearing in five days' time.
He's asked that you'll represent him.
I expect my clerk told you that I don't take on murder cases.
But you used to. And you were extraordinarily successful.
Particularly in cases like this.
In cases like what?
The cases where all the evidence was stacked up against the defendant
and where no barrister in his right mind would advise a not guilty plea.
But he says he didn't do it.
Exactly. Do you believe him?
Well, looking at the police evidence, no, erm...
Listening to him... maybe.
He and this young woman were having an affair.
She could have exposed him. It's all very messy.
Frankly, if I were in his shoes,
I'd just plead guilty and get it over with.
But he won't.
So what's his story?
I've made detailed notes. But he wants to talk to you himself.
Where is he now?
At Wellsden, on remand.
He said to ask after somebody called Jane.
He said it might help to persuade you.
Is that what he said? Yes.
It might just do the exact opposite.
Why can't we read a proper book?
What sort of book, Simon?
Something with a story. Harry Potter!
Jeffrey Archer. Jeffrey Archer, yeah.
He was inside. He's good. Porn!
Andy McNab, Andy McNab!
All right, that's enough!
I tell you what, you've got the library and there's a couple of minutes left.
Why don't you just pick out the books you want to read?
Miss Travers?
Alan.
I've been writing a story.
Really, what sort of story? It's... It's like an adventure.
You said you were in publishing, is that right? I was.
I was wondering if you could have a little read of it, like.
It's only three chapters at the moment,
but I'm just thinking, maybe I can...
Well, I'll be glad to. But, you know, um, getting published isn't easy.
I just want to see what you think of it.
So what's it called? I'll call it 'The Operation'. That's what it's about.
It's about a boy, of my age,
who has an operation on his brain and, like, how it changes him.
Is it, erm, a thriller?
Yeah. Yeah, I mean it's, erm... Well, I've got the whole idea,
but erm... I just don't want to waste my time.
I'm sure you're not wasting your time, Alan.
I'd be happy to look at it for you.
Thanks.
You should really ask the Governor if you want to take that home with you, Mrs Travers.
I'll make sure I call his office.
Has it got his phone number on it, his address?
I don't think so. It's just a story.
I'm sure it's a masterpiece
Well, at least he's trying.
You can call me Jane, by the way.
I prefer to keep things formal.
I had hoped we'd be friends. We're on the same side, aren't we?
I don't know about that.
I'm here to keep the little sods locked up and stop them cutting each other up.
Or taking a swipe at you.
Maybe even taking their dicks out when they get sick and tired of George Orwell!
It's happened before. How long have you been in the prison service?
Long enough to know them for what they are.
The trouble with people like you is you come here and see what you want to see.
And I have to wonder...
What is it you wonder, Mr Cooper?
You don't want to know.
No. Go ahead.
All right, it's your liberal conscience, your Guardian readers,
your pink and fluffies.
But then I look at you, coming here on Tuesdays and Fridays,
and I have to ask myself this -
Do you think you're helping them or is it maybe them that's helping you?
So, John Jarrold.
Dead for about a week before the local farmer found him.
He was the one that called it in.
John Jarrold. What sort of a name is that, do you think?
Er, I think it's a fairly common one, sir. A fairly fake one.
Er, you can't possibly know that, sir.
You ever been to Norwich? Once.
John Jarrold is a department store. Oh.
Listen, why don't I give you a word of advice, Detective Sergeant,
just so that you and I can get along.
why don't you never tell me what I can or cannot know?
In fact, why don't you just save your fucking opinions until I ask for them? Right.
Good lad.
So, we all right to go in? Yeah, yeah.
DC Taylor.
Good morning, Mark. This place really does stink.
Well, if you think this is bad, wait till you get next door.
Is that where he is? Yep, he's in bed.
Here.
Right, come on, Noddy.
We've got rid of the flies. There were a lot of flies.
I reckon he's been here for at least a week. And the warm weather.
John Jarrold. Well, that's what he called himself.
There was no ID, there was no passport.
No credit cards, no bills, nothing. Could have been anyone.
So what was he, then? A labourer?
He was an itinerant worker. The farmer, Robert Stevens,
he let him stay here while he did odd jobs around the farm.
And someone put a bullet in him.
Mm, from three paces.
Probably standing at the end of the bed.
Mm-hm.
All right, go and have a look at him, will you, tell me what you think? Right.
Take a closer look at the entry wound, are there any burn marks on the skin?
You'll have to get closer than that.
I'm sorry!
How did you get to be such a bastard?
Practice.
Will? Yeah?
Something's come up.
I've been offered a case in London, a murder case.
Don't tell me. Will, you -
I know I can't. I know I shouldn't. I don't want to.
But... It's Martin Newall.
Martin?!
Yeah, he's been accused of murdering his secretary.
Well, that's ridiculous! When did you last see him?
The same time as you, you know that. It was ages ago.
Exactly. You haven't seen him, I haven't seen him. People change -
Yes, but Martin never had it in him to hurt anyone.
This... This secretary? Yeah, her name was Lucy Wilson.
Were they...? Sleeping together? Allegedly.
How old was she?
22.
So young.
Why you?
He asked for me personally, and...
I don't know, maybe I just owe him.
Because of...?
Oh, Will, it was 20 years ago!
He was my best friend. I hurt him.
I think I was the one who hurt him.
Then maybe we both owe him.
Oh, for God's sake, Will, this is crazy!
You said you would never take on another murder case after what happened.
We left London. I walked out of my career,
Kate lost half of her friends - I know!
So you can't just go back on a whim!
Ah no, this is not a whim.
Have you thought about the danger?
Please, listen, I... I mean, the danger to you.
It could just happen all over again!
It won't.
I'm stronger now. Things have changed.
You can't know that. I do know that.
I don't believe this!
All right, Jane.
Look, you tell me.
Martin says he didn't do it.
He's asked for my help. Do you really think I can just walk out on him?
He said his name was John Jarrold
and I had no reason to doubt him.
So you've never been to Norwich, then?
Right, how long had he been here?
About 11 months.
He just turned up out the blue, looking for somewhere to live. And you gave him the house?
I was short-handed.
I let him stay there in return for a bit of work on the farm.
What about National Insurance, tax returns?
No money changed hands.
Yeah, well, you're still breaking the law.
I'm just saying I didn't pay him.
What's the story with all these posters?
Radical action in defence of animal rights.
I didn't know anything about that. Was he a member?
I don't know. I imagine you can find out.
Did he ever have any visitors? Did anyone ever come here?
No, I don't think so. He kept himself to himself.
So what it boils down to is that you gave your cottage
to a man you've never met before, didn't know him from Adam.
I mean, he could have been a complete fucking nutter!
Well, he seemed all right.
How could he bring himself to work on a farm anyhow, if he cared so much about animals?
We don't have any animals. This is an agricultural farm.
Call me when you get there. Mm.
And when you've seen him.
You have any messages for him?
No.
I just wish you weren't going.
Take care.
I will.
The train now approaching platform 2,
is the delayed 17:08 to London Liverpool Street.
Where does that go?
It leads down to the main road.
We've had a lot of rain, and the only tyre tracks we can find up here are yours.
Well, Jarrold didn't drive.
He'd have taken the footpath up from the bus stop.
Oh yeah? Maybe not the only one.
If someone came in the middle of the night to shoot Jarrold,
wouldn't it have been easier to drive?
Do you remember what I said about stupid, bloody unnecessary questions? Keep them to myself.
Right.
Actually, that was opinions. Same difference.
You'd come this way if it was the only route you knew.
Hey, do you see the tyre tracks?
Get a cast.
And find out who lives there.